Penny Hero (dot) Net

I had a vivid dream last night where I was some kind of extra-solar body orbiting a quasar. I think I had intelligence. I wasn’t just a rock. Perhaps I was myself, I don’t know. Who I was wasn’t the vivid part. The vivid part was how the quasar seemed to communicate it’s “anatomy” to me. It told me how its physics worked, and I watched it swirl and spin with my vision apparently filtered so that I could see color and texture. Now I don’t remember what it said, or how it specifically communicated with me. If I had to explain that, aside from the fact that it was a dream and wierd shit happens in dreams all the time, I’d have to say that I don’t comprehend it now because the Quasar didn’t “speak” in words, and my brain can only understand communication in some kind of word/language form (duh).

It looked like a translucent eggshell of swirling plasma, but it glowed white, blue and purple. I have no idea of its size, but I had the impression that the shell of energy/gas was large, like Sol-solar system large. If that was true, then my “orbit” must have been far beyond pluto. It took up only about 1/4 of my vision, but even at that distance, its swirling motion was pretty rapid, almost like the speed of water flowing down a slow drain… or closer to the speed of 2-foot ocean waves breaking on a beach. It didn’t seem to necessarily rotate…. maybe more like how the surface of the sun “rotates” in different sections at different speeds. The whirl-pool style swirling within it’s eggshell structure was it’s most distinguishing feature. That and its colors. It was like milky crystal or opal… and mostly egg-shaped.

The sky around it was scattered lightly with stars. Not many, I assume because we were so far from the rest of the known universe.

It was beautiful, and I felt intense awe…

I want to go back out there… and see it again.

Wo0oot!!!!

2,636 points for the home team!

My body and I used to have a very love/hate relationship. But mostly hate. I hated how clumsy it was. I hated how it did not reflect anything close to who I really was. I hated the disparity between the person other people saw and the person I was inside. Hated it. I was two sides of a canyon. Ugly.

I don’t know what changed. I don’t know if every girl goes through this or not. Probably not… because if so, more women would be presidents, astrophysicists, biochemical-engineers, surgeons, soldiers.

I would not be who I am if I did not feel this way. I don’t know how I ever functioned properly without this. Me and my V are buddies now.

I want to meet more people who are capable of celebrating the human body.

I want to hear more songs, poetry, and public art that are created to celebrate sex.

And by celebrate, I mean like sunrises, or rhinestones. Celebrate it like parents. Celebrate it like I celebrate the awesome physics of neutron stars and the experience of real hugs.

The fact that not everyone celebrates is one of the great injustices that will never be solved in the big picture. One of those things like bad politics, slavery, Microsoft… en masse, no change is completely possible. I’m sure there’s some sociological law describing this, and I wish I knew its name. But the corollary to this law will describe how we can still live our own individual lives without suicide sometimes. Like how people in large groups are stupid, but individuals are unique and intelligent.

That’s how we have to live. That’s how we have to celebrate.

Happy V-Day. (a few hours late, but… yeah)

I’m FINALLY finished with my short story. If you want to read it, click here. is where I’m keeping stuff I create. The story is currently untitled.

The story is basically a fictionalized telling of one of my childhood memories, as cheesy as that sounds. When I was younger, I randomly decided that it would be fun to peel all the bark off of a dozen or so christmas trees in the christmas-tree orchard my parents owned. The story is about “Megan” (psudo-emily) and how she does this, and how she deals with the guilt of lying about it.

If you read it, thanks thanks. Help me think of a title if you want, or let me know how much the story sucks, and specifically where so I can make it better.

And yeah… I have to send a little note out there to my dad too. :) I’m curious if my dad remembers this happening. I gave the “older brother” character in the story the same name as my real brother too.

ANyway… I’m going to be late for work now. bleh.