April

     What is it about April? What special thing rests within that month to conjure up such great change? Is it the promise of Summer, the banishment of Winter? The sunsets, baked in color and calm, or the tumultuous storms and showers, washing away the world? I can't be sure it's one, or even any of those things, but I can be certain of April.
    I am certain of its chaos and peace. Its wild winds and gentle breezes. Its perfect days, and ever more perfect nights. I am certain it means something to me, even if I can't tell what that is. April is a door. One you walk through without realizing it, but one you'd go through again without hesitation. I may write it as if this were some sudden revelation, as far from the truth as that is. Its always been this way; all I've done is simply take notice.
     It could be that April is the month the moon makes himself known in the day. Even as the sun shines in the sky, the moon hangs in that azure sea, afloat on the clouds and winds. As the end of days draws nigh, my old friends appears, in his humble splendor. He smiles, and whispers wait for me, and see me shine. This silent affair happily begins come every April, burning through the days of Summer.
     Its only till Fall, though. The parting is inevitable, but far from sorrowful. The Earth readies itself for the Moon, turning the air crisp, and the nights clear. With the stage set, the Moon eneters from the wings, and begins his glorious play. From his Harvest, to his Hunt and Blood, he takes the stage in his silver light, a cold comfort to warm the world before Winter. No more beautiful is the world than under the Frost Moon, its last cry of life before the cold end of the year.
    And this play starts itself in April, the unabashed Moon taking steps into the light of the Sun. the months of promises and hope, a time to forget the Darker Days, to look forward to the year to come.
     To think, we once walked in the heavens, on the mighty wings of will. Now, we are ground from such flights of fancy. No more do we take to such heights, for fear of the Fall. We landed on shores of empty seas, sought the peaks of red-hued mountains, search for our place amidst the stars and the Moon, and now we can only look up into the sky and remember what was, but is no longer.
    What is it about April? What special thing rests in the month to conjure up great change? Is it the warm rays of the Sun, or the heralding of springtime? It is the reminder of Springs past, and Autumns to follow. It, like the Moon, helps us to never for the change already enacted, of the change we can enact.
     As if I could ever forget. 

A Great/Terrible Story: Beauty and the Beast

     Hello everyone! How's it going? I recently saw a stage production of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, and it got me thinking (a terrible thing to do, no?). As I watched the familiar story unfold on stage, I realized how terrible of a message could be interpreted from it. Belle takes the cruel and misunderstood Beast, and turns him into a kind, caring, gentle creature, both capable and worthy of love. That's the way the movie (and musical) present it. Another way to look at it the story of the girl dating the jerk, and changing him for the better. The horror story of so many romantic comedies, it displays to children that it not only is a possible outcome of this, but it actually ends in a happily ever after.
     This kind of thing could be considered somewhat of a stretch, but sit down and actually think about it. The man locked her father away because he sought shelter from ravenous WOLVES. Maurice didn't want to be eaten alive, but in return he watches his daughter sacrifice herself for his freedom, and then fall in love with the creature. From his eyes, its a father watching his daughter date a guy that he knows is bad news, but as soon as he tries to do something about it, he gets locked in a looney bin. The other side of this story is that of the Beast, or rather, the ugly and misunderstood guy who gets the hot girl.
     Gaston is arguably Belle's best bet at a happy life: he's healthy, successful, competent, and definitely has good genetics. If it weren't for the Beasts' wealth to help stave off disease and early deaths, he is in no way a better choice for Belle (and yes, Belle is a strong independent woman who doesn't need a man, and got with the Beast only because she wanted to, and would've been fine on her own). Despite this, Belle plays the part of the hottest girl in school, the one who could have the choice of going to prom with whomever she chooses, but she turns down the captain of the football team to go with the chubby and under-groomed geek from her pottery class. I'm sure things like this have happened in real life, and I'm not saying that this sort of thing is impossible, but I am saying that it's all kinds of unlikely. Going even further, the guy doesn't immediately open up, and the girl has to draw him out of his shell, after which they tear it up on the dance floor, fall in love, and live happily ever after.
     Sure, the message of The Beauty and the Beast has a multitude of good sides, like how love is something that goes past appearances, or that love can bring even the most wretched of us all into the light. In the end, a story says what you want it to say, just realize that Belle got lucky with the Beast being under a spell, and not an actual monster, and the Beast had an ENTIRE CASTLE OF PEOPLE pulling for him, and even then he barely landed that love plane.

Why Yu-Gi-Oh! Is Some Serious Stuff

      Hey everybody! Welcome to March, we've finally defeated the hellish month known more commonly as February, and have now to endure the turbulent transition between Winter and Spring. As much as I could go on about the seasons and all that that encompasses, I've got something else I'd like to talk about. Yu-Gi-Oh.
       Yes, you read that right. This week, we're talking about children card games and it's respective television show (and manga). Actually, the parentheses in that sentence have the more appropriate qualifier for this post. The anime (or cartoon show) for Yu-Gi-Oh! is pretty ridiculous. Granted, it is difficult to make a trading card game seem serious, but there are many better ways than what 4Kids thought would work. The first thing we need to establish about the actual Yu-Gi-Oh! series for this discussion is my actual point: While a children's card game is an arguably insignificant or unimportant thing in the eyes of the world, the game Duel Monsters (the in-show/in-book name for the Yu-Gi-Oh! card game) is absolutely not meant for children, and isn't even really a game.
     That being said, holy crap is Yugi messed up. In the first story of the manga, he gets picked on by his classmates, Joey and Tristan. They bully him about liking puzzles and games, steal a piece of his solid gold Millennium Puzzle, and throw it into the school's pool. Seeing this as an opportunity, an upperclassman beats the sweet loving crap out of Joey and Tristan, and then tells Yugi he did it for him. Yugi tries to defend the pair, but gets beaten up himself, after which the upperclassman tells Yugi he owes him $1600 for beating up Joey and Tristan, and if he doesn't pay, he'll stab him with a knife (chapter one, ladies and gentlemen). That night, while trying to figure out how to conjure up the money for the bully, Yugi distracts himself by working on the Millennium Puzzle. The task is suddenly easy that night, and he completes it, after Joey brings back the missing piece. Yugi's grandfather, having been told about the situation by Joey, sneaks the money into Yugi's backpack. The Puzzle is completed, and this high school boy becomes possessed by the spirit of an Ancient Egyptian Pharaoh. This spirit calls the bully (we'll call him Bob) to the school at night, and challenges him to a game. Bob and Yugi take turns placing the money on their hands and stabbing it with Bob's knife, taking whatever bills they manage to pierce. Suddenly, Bob's greed is out of control, and he can barely keep his knife hand in check. Realizing he's going to stab straight through his hand, Bob attacks Yugi with the knife. Yugi fly 20 feet in the air, and curses Bob with "Visions of Avarice," causing him to see trash and leaves as cash. And we never know if this goes away. It's highly likely that Bob is still a raving lunatic in the streets of Domino City, gather scraps of trash because he thinks it cold hard cash.
     There are several other points that seem important to mention, such as the repeated hospitalization of Yugi's grandfather, the fact that Yugi sent his rival into coma because he lost a card game, the fact that Pegasus (the villain of the Duelist Kingdom arch) forces a man to commit suicide with magical powers, and has his magical eye. Ripped. Out. So yes, the Yu-Gi-Oh! television show in America is childish and silly, but the same simply cannot be said of the manga. The first book alone is just so, so dark.

The Science of Fantasy

     How's it going everybody? Enjoying the end of February? I certainly am. February has always been the month that feels the longest in the year, though shortest it may be. Anyway, I've spent some actual thought on this post (something that hasn't happened since the Elder Days), so enjoy, and excuse me for my slap-dashed mathematics and science. It's not as if I'm an engineer or anything.
      This week, I'd like to delve into some Tolkien. For all the years of my life, I have been infattuated with the little hills and rivers of the Shire, the stormy majesty of the Misty Mountains, the great Fields of Pelennor. In recent years, however, questions have arisen, questions of science and engineering. Today, I hope to answer some of these questions, and I'll share with you my findings.
     First, let's talk about what mithril is, exactly. Founded and forged by the Dwarves of Middle-Earth, mithril is a silvery metal, light in weight but great in strength, as valuable as it is rare. It is used for arms and armor, though the Elves took to using mithril in their jewelry, as the metal would never tarnish or weather. This raises a couple questions for me, chiefly: how strong is mithril, and could one make it? If not, how could it exist?
     This first question has a simple answer: Strong. But I (obviously) wanted to go deeper than that. Like, quantitatively deeper. A number, really. So let's get into it. To establish how strong mithril is, we first need to establish what it's made out of. From The Fellowship of the Ring, we know that mithril can be "beaten like copper," and worked into jewelry and chains, which gives us an important clue. Mithril is ductile and malleable, meaning it can be flatten and shaped or turned to wire without breaking, which is why it can be worked into various crafts. Additionally, we know that it can be polished like glass, from which we can infer the material doesn't take to scuffs or scratches very well (confirmed by the fact that mithril reportedly never tarnishes or grows dim in luster). Finally, mithril is incredibly strong for it's weight, as it is "as light as a feather, but as hard as a dragon's scale," but isn't brittle, because brittle materials don't make for good weapons (they tend to snap in two).
     So, where does this get us? We need something silvery and strong, but light and resilient to the elements (not the periodic ones). Something that can be worked in a smithy, and capable of hosting impurities to make alloys. Ladies and gentlemen, after some google-searching and textbook-scouring, I believe I've found a match. The closest thing in our world to the mithril of Arda is Titanium. So, if we assume that mithril has the basic properties of titanium, we now have a wealth of data on the material.
     Making mithril is an entirely different matter, however. There are some very distinct differences between mithril and titanium, chiefly the difficulty of working them. Mithril can be worked in all ways, from weapons to armor to rings to great city gates with relative ease. Titanium is far harder to bend to our will. The methods of making such craft out of titanium have only been fully developed in recent times (relatively recent, that is), but the old ways of smithies, as is practiced by the Dwarves and Elves of Arda, would not be able to forge blades and bucklers. Here's where the magic happens.
     Yes, magic is probably involved, but there's further science to engage herein. While the specifics are still hazy to me, and I can't fully explain it, I've found something that could help the case of mithril: metallic infusion. It's like alloys, where a host metal has impurities dissolved into it in solid solution, but what I'm thinking is slightly different. Imagine you could take an alloy of a metal, and infuse it into another metal. I know, it's technically not possible, but imagine if it where. If you could combine the properties of several titanium alloys (namely titanium carbide, titanium dioxide, and titanium nitride) into a single alloy, then you would have the means of making mithril. Of course, such a solute does not (to our knowledge) exist, so I lay this impossibility at the feet of fantasy. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to look into have a titanium ring with a diamond jewel. I'd tell you more, but its Nenya business.

The Backpack System

     Hello all! How's everybody been? I trust things are going well, mostly because this has been a historically one-sided method of communication, thus leaving me the responsibility of determining how everything in your life has been faring. It's a heavy burden, I know, but do not spend a precious moment in thinking I don't approach this task with the same levity and nonchalance that I wield in all my duties.
     Anyways, I've got something I'd very like to share with you. With the help of a friend, I've at long last slain a beast that's haunted me for many a year. At long last, I have developed a universal system reference for backpack pockets. I'm sure you've experienced this situation: You're asking a friend to put something into your backpack, or you're being asked to remove something from a friends backpack. In this process, communication falls apart as you try to explain which pocket you're discussing. This happens at the fault of perspective, as what you would consider the "second pocket" on your backpack is likely to be completely different from what your compatriot considers the pack's "second pocket," and this causes the confusion.
     My system alleviates this social awkwardness, and repairs this hole in modern communication. Look at your backpack. Take a mental note of the number pockets it has. Beginning at the main pocket (the largest one, typically closest to the wearer's back), number each pocket in order of decreasing vertical position and compartment size. In the case of a tie, favor the right-side pocket (using the wearer's point of view as the basal setting, as if they were wearing the pack), and go all the way to the smallest pockets. In regards to exterior pouches, bill them under the internal compartments, as a way of removing confusion.
     I know asking you to adopt and learn an entirely new system of communication is unfounded in it's time requirement, but seriously guys, doesn't this fix such a minuscule problem?

Why The Warcraft Movie Is Going To Be Horrendous

     I feel like this isn't one I really should be explaining. Have you ever heard of the 1993 Super Mario Bros movie? I'm technically committing an excommunicable offense (yes, excommunicable isn't actually a word, but language is fluid so deal with it) by even mentioning that travesty, but my hope is that you'll first comprehend the weight of my decision to bring up Satan's Short Film, infer that my explicitly telling that that monstrosity is essentially a sign of the End Times, and then realize the correlation between Super Mario Bros. and World of Warcraft (they're both video games).
     Sure, correlation isn't causation. It'd be totally irrational to think that just because one video game movie was an aberration, all video game movies will be that same! That's why I take great pride in Street Fighter from 1994 starring Jean-Claude Van Damme (12% on Rotten Tomatoes), Mortal Kombat and the obviously necessary sequel Mortal Kombat: Annihilation (33% and 3%, respectively), Jason Statham's lost masterpiece In The Name of The King (4% on Rotten Tomatoes), and everybody's favorite: Tron Legacy. I'd be absolutely crazy to think that the grand tradition of agonizingly horrible video game movies would ever last into 2016!
     All well deserved sarcasm aside, let's talk about a real reason why the movie is going to tank. Sure, a lot of people will see it, and it'll probably see moderate success in the box office, but that's because the bulk of the flashy movie going audience is a run of the mill Virtual Philistine. Without trying to sound condescending, I think its a fair assumption that the majority of the population doesn't play video games. Yes, they play games, and they play some video games, but there are deeper levels to the gaming industry and fandom. To the (and I try to use this word without seeming like a douche) casual gamer (no, still sounded like a douche), the lore and experience aren't as immersive or important. There is so much to discuss, portray, and display that a single movie can in no way encompass an entire franchise (let alone one as colossal as WoW). It's like trying to fit the entire Encyclopedia into one 2 hour documentary.
     Finally, there's the issue that every single video game movie has: the lack of interaction. Video games are, at this point, the ultimate method of media. They have visual, auditory, and interactive information. They have the time to establish cast amounts of exposition, can have intricate and complex story lines, and often contain non-linear elements. That's something that simply can't be done with the movie medium. Try as they may, a movie will never have the same amount of individualism that a video game can create. Besides, video games give people a sense of singular importance, a character that they don't just identify with, but essentially is them, whereas movies tend to present an ensemble of characters from which you are expected to relate to and thus identify with. One of the most profound moments I had watching a movie was at the end of The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies, when I realized there would be no more Tolkien movies. I watched the credits roll on my childhood, and it almost brought me to tears, something 13 years in the making (assuming I was first exposed to The Hobbit at the age of 5). Skyrim, however, generated a similarly profound moment when I finally raised a character to the maximum level without glitches or mods (which I timed to happen at the same place the game starts). This was a moment of emotion (yes, about a game, calm down), but it only took me 4 years to have such a cathartic experience. The sheer intensity of involvement and care that goes into a video game can't be explained or extracted in a movie.
     So yeah. That new Warcraft movie is going to be a laughably bad attempt at portraying an entire world. And if it isn't I'll eat my words.

The Lego Effect

    Hey everybody, how's it been? Welcome to February, congrats on making it through January. This week, I'd like to talk to you all about a little thing I call the Lego Effect. What's the Lego Effect?

I'm glad you asked.

     The basis of this entire concept originates from the strange phenomenon that occurs when building Lego sets. I would look for a specific piece amid the sea of plastic bits, but eternities of searching would yield nothing for my efforts. Crestfallen in my failures, I would begin to look for a new piece. Almost immediately after switching my query, I would find the previously sought after piece. 

     It was a little annoying at first, but then I would think I could use it advantageously. If I couldn't find a piece, I would pretend to give up, and move on to another step. There was no way to fool fate, though. My trickery was rendered useless, and it was soon I realized the true nature of the phenomenon. It wouldn't work unless I had truly and completely given up my search for the Lego that it revealed itself.

     Why does this matter, though? Unless Lego's are monstrously significant in the life of the average person, this "Lego Effect" is oddly specific. Quell your confusion, and allow me to elaborate. The Lego Effect has a wide-ranged applicability, rearing its head all over our lives (and I'm not just talking about building IKEA furniture). 

     One such example is the plethora of lost papers that turn up when you're trying to find the homework that's due. I couldn't number the countless times I've found notes or forms I needed yesterday while scrabbling to hand in assignments. Sure, it happened in part because I was within spitting distance of a sloven in high school, but there's also some iota of slow-trigger serendipity at play. 

     It's like the saying "love happens when you least expect it." In fact, it's exactly that. So many men and women are looking through a Tunnel-vision of Love, and it skews their abilities to find companionship. On the other hand, people who aren't looking for love seem to find it just about everywhere. While that does have a bit of an 'awe...' factor to it, there are some serious implications. 

     By the mechanics of the Lego Effect, individuals most prepared and ready for romance are the furthest from finding it (assuming the Lego Effect is an absolute), and people who couldn't be bothered with love are blindsided by it. Sure, love is wonderful and amazing, but can you imagine how many scientific discoveries have been waylaid by Love Ambushes? How many papers and novels have been left unfinished because Romance kicked in the door? We may never know.

    There's another devastating result of the Lego Effect, found in the transitory period between wanting and not wanting romance. During this phase, the afflicted experience a vast range of mental and emotional strain, mostly due to the conflicting desire to want romance and the universe's decision not to bestow it. It's kinda like the Uncertainty Principle of Quantum Physics. To avoid a long explanation of quantum mechanics, I'll summarize: Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle states that we can only know either the position or the momentum of a particle, as determined by a proportionality equation:

uncertainty of position X uncertainty of momentum > Planck's constant/4*pi

    This translates into the Lego Effect kinda of like this:

certainty of wanting love X (emotional readiness - .9) < likelihood of finding love

    Where certainty, readiness, or likelihood multiplied by 100 creates a percentage (this makes the variables all decimals valued between .01:.99). It's a bit more mathematical than I wanted to make it, but I'm hoping my point is coming across here. It's true, you need to take action to affect your life, but sometimes the best action is inaction. So, to all you heavy-hearts and lonely souls who see Valentine's Day as a fast approach wreck, hearken to me. Don't worry about it. If things will happen, they'll happen. Don't see next Sunday as a day to feel sad about being alone, because doing so will only make you more alone (vicious cycle, I know). To be honest, Valentine's Day isn't really a romantic day. Feel bad if you're alone on Christmas. Now that's a romantic day. 

     If there's anything I'd like you to take away from this week, it's this: I spent 30 minutes trying to create a mathematically correct equation to express the Lego Effect for romance. Yep. I should probably re-evaluate how I manage my time.

Space Magic and the Runescape of the Stars

     Hey, how's everybody's week been? Mine has been pretty great, with moving back into college, getting snowed in my dorm with practically nothing to do, classes starting again with shenanigans abound. I certainly missed the friends, the laughs, and the debates. Ah, college debates. Nowhere else can you find a conversation filled with pseudo-intellectualism and ill-conceived rhetoric. I had one such debate with a friend of mine just a few days ago about the game Destiny and space magic.
      For those of you who don't know, Destiny is a MMOFPS (massively mutliplayer online first person shooter), set in the long years after the Collapse of humanity's Golden Age. This period of great advancement, peace, and exploration was brought on by a mysterious celestial object known as the Traveler. Now, the Traveler helped out humanity with all this growth and development, but it also brought behind it the Darkness, an onslaught of alien races bound and determined to destroy the Traveler and the humans in it's care. In a last ditch effort to save mankind, the Traveler used the last of its life-force, Light, to create Ghosts. These Ghosts (little NAV robot eyes) would search for the bodies of long dead warriors who could wield Light as a weapon, and revive them as Guardians.
     That's just the back story for the why everything has turned to sh-- in this world, and offers up why the player can perform cool abilities and come back to life after getting beaten, shot, stabbed, crushed, scorched, and when they accidentally fall off the map. It also allows for some melodramatic lines about pushing the Darkness back and bringing the Light to places.
    By now, you're probably thinking "that's nice and all JD, but you mentioned 'space magic' like a paragraph ago and have yet to bring it up again, you know that's what I fixated on in the title, just get to it already." Whether you thought that or not, I'm going to assume you did. The weird thing about Destiny is that it looks like science fiction game -space ships, aliens, guns, robot people, and what have you- but it's actually not. That's right, Destiny is a space fantasy. Before you start think about Legolas as an astronaut or yelling at your screen that I still haven't mention space magic though, let's get into the space magic.
     For the fighter- and rogue-style class in Destiny (Titans and Hunters, respectively), the abilities seem pretty much sci-fi. Throwing knives, grenades, dome shields, and explosions all the fit the bill of super-science stuff, and I'll concede that. That's where space magic comes into play. The third class is the Warlock, or the magic user class, and they use magic. Like, straight up magic. they fly around the battlefield, throw grenades that are essentially just fireballs or lances of energy, and channel thunderstorms or the Sun to wreak havoc and destruction on their foes. The official explanation for how they do this almost perfectly mirrors that of a Dungeons & Dragons wizard! A Warlock studies the Traveler to master its arcane energies (arcane meaning magical), and a wizard studies magical tomes for their knowledge, pulling from arcane sources to cast spells. And if you still don't believe me, then believe Bungie (the company that made the game), who said the Warlock is meant to be a "space wizard" like a Jedi or Gandalf.
     But one wizard a fantasy does not make. There are still some other things that must be proven before we can conclude whether Destiny is in fact space fantasy. Like classic fantasy enemies: orcs, pirates, necromancers, evil dark princes, cults, and things of a similar nature. These can all be found in Destiny, just with a space twist on them. The Fallen are essentially pirates, with enemies called Captains, Vandals, Sharks. The Hive fit the bill of space necromancers, with the sickening green aesthetic, Thrall, Ogres, and Wizards (never mind the fact that they try to revive the soul of their old leader). The Cabal take on the role of the Orc, an army of strong and brutish warriors that always run forward and die faster than you'd think. The Vex, while robots, do worship the Black Heart with a cult-ish fervor, and make up for their robot-ness with names like Goblins, Minotaurs, Hydras, Harpies, and Hobgoblins. As for evil dark lords, Oryx the Taken King has got all the traditional characteristics: massive fortress, bat wings and horns, a twisted looking sword, and a title like the Taken King.
     While I could go down the excessively long list of similarities between Destiny and the standard fantasy setting, that would take too long and even wouldn't read it, let alone write it, so instead I'm going to jump straight to the last point I'd like to make: the difference between science fiction and fantasy. In both genres, amazing and fantastical things happen, but what causes them is the differentiating aspect. Sci-fi uses super advanced technology (and mediocre science) to explain it's wondrous events, while fantasy throws magic at every problem like it's duct tape. So, what does Destiny do? There is never any scientific explanation for how a robot can summon a gun made from the Sun's light, or how a human can temporarily shut down gravity around themselves to float up and hurl an explosive bolt of space energy at the ground. It's just written off as the powers of Light, and given no second glance.
     In the end, this whole space fantasy isn't a new concept, and it's been done time and time again, but it's the first time in my experience that space fantasy has been the basis of a best-selling video game. Sure, Destiny has some problems like it's really repetitive and forces you to interact with other humans (even though grinding and whoring for teammates is a stock and standard of the MMO genre), but it's nice to know that space fantasies are finally getting their turn in the spotlight. Could this turn into the advent of a new age of movies, games, and books? We shall see.

Space magic.

I Don't Know About You, I Think It's 22: Real Adulthood

    Hey guys, how's it going? Everybody looking forward to the crazy snow storm? I certainly am, since I move back into college tomorrow. But that's the future; let's talk about the now. Today is my sister's birthday (yes, this is the second time a blog post has coincided with my sister's birthday), and I'd like to talk about adulthood. In the United States, you are legally considered an adult upon reaching the age of 18, but you're not really and adult at that point. You can't purchase alcohol (one of the oldest traditions mankind celebrates is inebriation), you're not really treated like an adult by society, and often 18 year-olds aren't typically given much responsibility. No, 18 is the threshold of adulthood, but more the porch steps. The real door into the responsibilities of the real world awaits at 22 years of age.
     I'm sure many of you would disagree with this, but allow me to explain my thought process. While being a grown-up is something you really have to determine for yourself, there is also a societal aspect. On (or around) the 22nd birthday, there is a drastic shift in what the world thinks and expects of you. Think about sitcoms: Friends, a popular 90s television show set in NYC beings with the average character age at 22. At this point, you're out of college or getting into serious work, your 20s have begun in full swing, and something seems to be expected of you.
     The year of partying we assume all 21 year-olds engage in has ended at 22, life becomes more serious, the friends you have presently will most likely be the friends you'll have for a many years. It's true that most people don't have their careers planned out, their romantic lives tied down, or their financial situations worked out at all, but there is some expectation that you know what you want. In many ways, this is glorifying, how we push people to strive towards success early, but it's simultaneously terrifying. The very concept of having every single aspect of your life plotted out could render even the most stalwart nerve catatonic.
     This faux checkpoint on life is just a little thing for you to think about while you're snowed in this weekend. And, while you're working on that, I'll be hard at working doing the science for next weeks post (that's right, we're doing science soon!) Any-Hootie and the Blowfish, That's all I've got to say on the matter. I'll see y'all next time.

The Biology of Brahmin and Other Two-Headed Beasts

     Recently, Bethesda Studios released the next installment of the hit Fallout series: Fallout 4. Set in the post-apocalyptic wastes of Boston and the Commonwealth, Fallout 4 showcases some (welcomed) nuclear wasteland cliches. While the radiation zombies, irradiated water, and mini nukes are all super 1950s, nothing screams Cold War craziness quite like the Brahmin, a species of two-headed cow. Now, video game logic is something we can't really argue with, because when piles of hay beat gravity and crouching fixes gunshots, the laws of science don't really apply. But what if they did? Could something like a Brahmin (or Radstag, two-headed deer) exist?
     Assuming that this distinct and radical change could actually develop on a species-wide level, could the biological mechanics work? To start, let's see if there are two-headed animals in real life. Shocking as it may be, there are. Polycephaly is the fancy words for an animal that is born with an extra head (or extra appendage), and it happens often enough in nature. Snakes, cats, cows, even people can be born with a second head, but these specimen rarely live long. The big synapse the seems to occur in these bizarre situations is a disconnect between the two brains (all of this according to Wikipedia, of course) which results in poor motor skills and general confusion, a problem noticeably absent in the behavior of brahmin.
     I think this results from a "separation of powers" physiology. We know that human motor functions are split between hemispheres, so why not between two brains? Think of using two computers for one modem. One is dedicated to CPU, and another is dedicated to RAM. The other issue would be the sheer amount of nerve tissue that would be needed to connect the two brains and the sensory nerves. The solution to this can be found in the stocky, short-neck build of Brahmin and Radstags. This dual-brain system also provides a back up brain, should the other suffer excessive damage or be killed. This supplies both a technical "yes" to two-headed functionality, and a segue into my next topic: Why would a two-headed creature evolve?
     To answer this, we turn towards Darwinism and the process of evolution. Natural selection works in a pretty simple way: the longer you live, the more babies you make; the more babies you make, the more your individual traits are spread. Typically, this process can take thousands of years to make drastic changes but there is documented evidence of new species of finches cropping up in the Galapagos Islands in the past 40 years (source). If 40 years of geological isolation can make a new breed of bird, who says 100 years of drastic environmental change and radiation exposure can't generate a two-headed cow? We know that radiation can trigger mutations (though these are often fatal or lack viability), and the catastrophic changes in predator prey relations and ecological alterations directly affect natural selection. With the bombings and subsequent nuclear winters, herd sizes would have been vastly reduced, and the introduction of new predators such as Deathclaws into the ecosystem would necessitate the introduction of a second set of ears, eyes and nostrils. Lacking the advantage of numbers in a harsh and unforgiving wasteland, the Brahmin that detect threats earlier evade death longer, and pass their traits onto new generations.
     Of course, this is all the speculations of one academic whose foray into biology is limited to personal readings and AP Bio in high school (though I performed exceptionally in that class), but still, doesn't it kinda make sense? The only reason we currently cast out the possibility of a viable polycephalic creature is because there aren't any right now, but who knows? With enough disaster, catastrophe, and radiation we might see the advent of a two-headed cow. Might not be great to look at, but the cow tongue industry would probably love it. 

Introductions

     Hello and howdy! Welcome once again to the rambling thoughts of a pseudo-intellectual with a laptop and wifi. We find ourselves at the beginning of a new year, an untold sea of possibilities that lies before us, should we elect to sail it. Gone now are the days of 2015. They have been ebbed away by the unrelenting march of time, diminishing at the passage of each second. As usual, we turn our eyes forward to the year yet to come instead of lingering on the past. That brings me to the first point of order: the gimmick. The previous two blogs I've written have both had little quirks and abnormalities, and this series is no different. This year, posts will be scheduled around the number 7. If the date is divisible by 7, something will be posted here. It's pretty simple -despite the internal struggle spawned in the titling process- and will undoubtedly lead to scheduling conflicts and late nights for me. With any hope, I'll be able to put in more effort that past attempts at blogging, though this prediction is based solely on the fact that college life has forced time management onto my shoulders.
       I'm not at college, however pedantic my vocabulary may seem, and am therefore existing in a timeless manner. I feel not the hindrance of looming deadlines or regimented wakefulness. These caveats of life have been replaced with that ever-draining sense of wastefulness, the feeling of something left undone... It will come to an end before the month does, and soon I'll be back to the fast-paced thrills and chills of undergraduate studies. When I return I will (hopefully) start along the path to a materials science & engineering major, and I can only hope new adventures await. I have been completely free-writing up to this point, mostly because I didn't have anything prepared, but alas, I must keep writing! Since I haven't posted anything since the beginning of Autumn 2015, I feel out of practice, and the well-trodden trail of blogging has seen the growth of brambles and thickets, but fret not. The more we travel down this road, the smoother it will become, and then I'll be able to write more interesting posts.
     Well, it would seem as though we have reached the end of this post. It was a strange journey, but we've come out the other side, and with a glance over our shoulders we can see that this was actually a long-winded way of saying two small words:

I'm back.