A Bittersweet Birthday

Today would have been my sister Stephanie's 46th birthday.

Because of her, everyone already knew me when I was a tiny new marcher nervously clutching my saxophone the summer before entering 8th grade, afraid of all of the intimidating "big kids." Those kids instead took me under their proverbial protective wings, for which I'm eternally grateful.

I would probably had a really difficult time otherwise, introverted geek that I was (and am), and perhaps I would have quit long before my senior year. Instead, the band became a kind of surrogate family that has been difficult, if not outright impossible, to replace in all the decades that have followed. In fact, my band friends are the main reason I still have a presence on social media. Again, all of this was because I had a big, cool sister who paved the way for me all those many years ago.

My sister has now been gone for nine years, and I often wonder what life might be like if she were still around. A lot of my modern memories are tainted with sadness, and though we move on, we never fully recover. Not really.

You can pave over paradise with a parking lot, but you'll always have the pictures.

In years past, I've said much on the topic of what I owe to my big sister, who left this Earth long before her time. I still can't believe that I, the awkward little brother, have now outlived my much cooler, older sibling. I mean, I'm cool and all, but I'll never be "Stephanie cool," and neither will you.

You kind of just have to learn to live with that.

"Pika Pika?"

It is fascinating how sometimes life will toss us into completely unexpected situations. Just last week I found myself being the driver and chaperone for a high school prom, despite the fact that I don't have any kids. (That came out quite a bit creepier sounding than I had intended, but I'll offer no further explanation.)

Today, I find myself at an anime convention working on the rough draft to a ghost story, all while nerds dressed as anime and video game characters stoll by being uniquely weird and awesome. (It is a kind of pure Nirvana, if I'm being honest.)

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried, which I sincerely hope isn't a commentary on my forthcoming fiction writing abilities. That, I suppose, remains to be seen.

But the point is...I'm wearing a Pikachu hat in a hotel lobby while writing a book surrounded by geeks, and this really isn't such a bad life.

The Unity of Infinity

I don't know who may need to read this, but...

When you gaze up into the sky on a clear night, and you realize you're literally staring into an infinite abyss, the idea may occur to you that compared to the rest of All That Exists, we humans are indescribably small and utterly insignificant. This thought is humbling, as it should be. We need humility.

Yet, amongst all of that seemingly incalculable creation, we exist. We are literally assembled from the very dust as forms the entirety of the Cosmos-all that we can possibly perceive or even imagine-itself.

We aren't merely standing at the edge of a vast emptiness; we are Infinity itself. We are connected to something so much bigger than at first appears confined as we are to our mortal shells. Put simply: we are not alone.

And that, my friend, I find pretty encouraging.

Valentine's Day: A Brief Personal History

I was an awkwardly shy kid growing up, so I never had a "real girlfriend" (what with the kissing and the boobies and the hey-hey-hey) until I was 20 years old. I met her, as many of us introverted pre-Millennials tend to do, in an Internet chat room.

My real life inspired cinematic masterpieces.

Fun fact! Upon hearing that I was going to meet this mysterious internet girl in person, my mom’s sage maternal advice went exactly as follows: “Thank God! You’re finally going to get some.”

Good talk, Mom. Therapy is expensive. 

Thus, for the first two decades of my life, I had a pretty hateful relationship with this so-called "holiday." I was always on the sidelines, looking over at all of those happy couples, with their flowers, balloons, S.T.D.s, and utter such bullshit.

My dislike ran so deep, in fact, that when I eventually had dates of my own in later years, I still hated the day, because you are always expected to do something. Personally, as I've discussed before, I prefer spontaneity. Surprises for the sake of surprises. Obligatory holidays suck because they're not, at least in my view, genuine.

Oh, and if you go all-out one year, assuming you are still with the same partner the following year, you feel like you have to up the ante the next go round. Fortunately (I guess) for me, my relationships never really lasted that long. Score one for poverty, I guess.

Anyway, many years later, I finally just gave up on all of it. I adopted a personal mantra of accepting myself for myself, and not being "desperate for love."

You tell 'em Short Round, you terrible 80's racist stereotype, you.

It actually worked. I felt content and happiness on a scale I hadn't felt in years. There was no longer a missing piece in my life. I was all of the pieces. 

Oh, I also watched a lot of porn. 

Lots...and lots...of porn.

See? Star-Lord gets me.

So, as cliché as it sounds, that's when I finally met a special someone.

Warning: Mushy shit ahead. You've been warned.

I was first introduced to Amanda several years ago, in a hook-up attempt by some well-meaning mutual friends. We clicked on a friendly level, having many shared geeky interests, but neither one of us was ready for anything more. Also, both of us are painfully shy even as adults, so that doesn't help our charisma level much. 

Roll for initiative. Ouch, looks like you're going to die alone in a house full of cats. 

Eh, I could definitely do worse.

But, we talked. And talked. For years we've been talking, and occasionally hanging out, and getting to know each other.
A few months ago, it all came out. We were attracted to each other.

Whoo-hoo! Go Topher, Go Topher, it's your birthday!

Ahem.

I'll spare you the details, but I will say that when it does work, it is amazing. I should know; I'm certainly an expert on when it doesn't work, based on years of experience. References provided upon request.

My advice to everyone, including myself, is to never try to force relationships.* Have fun all by yourself. Be content with who you are first. If something is meant to be, it will be, but in any case you'll already have peace and personal fulfillment in your heart.

*And guys, if a girl you like says NO, then STOP. She has given you her answer. Respect her choice, and her, and let it go. This is very important. Forget how movies and society tells men how to act in these situations, and learn some decorum. It is a dying art.

Long story short, this year I'm finally having an amazing Valentine's Day, because I'm spending it with my best friend, collaborator, and partner in crime.

It has definitely been worth the wait. ♥♥
♥

Why Earth-Bound Time Travel is Extremely Impractical (but still looks cool on film)

The following was originally written and posted to my Facebook "Notes" page on November 19, 2010. It has been re-posted (and edited) here for posterity, and also because I mentioned it in the "Welcome to the Realm" post. I owe much to this writing.

Sure, I love a good sci-fi flick as much as the next guy. A favorite shtick of the genre is the good 'ole time travel story (or, perhaps more accurately, the good 'ole confusing subplot). However, there is an inherent problem with time travel, at least time travel on Earth, that has bothered me for years and I'm surprised no one has ever caught this glaring discrepancy. (At least, that I have ever heard.)

Let's start with the basic movie scenario. Marty hits the gas, accelerating the Delorean up to 88 miles per hour, timed perfectly with the lightning bolt of fate, thus sending him instantaneously into the year 1985. The concept is that the time vehicle moves through time, but not space. Makes sense, right? When the time displacement occurs, after the blinding flash and three sonic booms, the car is still in the Hill Valley town square, at the exact same location, albeit a few decades later. 

Marty's parents are also now freakin' loaded, but I digress...)

"Now what, Mr. Picky Geek, is the flaw with this design?" You might ask. "The Delorean looks cool, what with the stainless steel construction and flippy-uppy doors and all! I get transported in time just by looking at it...to the glorious 1980s!" 

First of all, they made that car for, what, a year? Time to move on, people. Second, here is what would REALLY happen:

Marty hits the pedal, accelerating up to 88 miles per hour. The lightning bolt enters into the flux capacitor, sending the car into...empty space. Marty, after a very brief moment of shock, soon dies of asphyxiation as the Delorean drifts through the eternal vacuum of space. Those gull door wings look cool, but they are absolutely useless for space travel.

Why? What went wrong? The Doc could never be that stupid, right? He's the Doc, for cripes sake! It is actually very simple, which is why it has bugged me for years. A fixed point in space doesn't exist on Earth, due to the fact that Earth is hurtling through the infinite cosmos like a crazed bowling ball towards my ex-girlfriend's picture. Therefore, if you only traveled through time, but not space, the Earth would not be in that same location at a different point in time! 

Suck it, Biff, and your mighty alternate reality gambling empire!

That's right, on any given afternoon, while you're crashing on the couch watching Star Trek reruns, that couch, the Enterprise, and your butt are still moving at incredible speeds. Even traveling in time no more or less than a single hour would have serious geographical repercussions.

Now, if you were to, say, slingshot around a nearby star, then perhaps your time travel would be met with less surprises. 

Just make sure to pack extra plutonium and grab a hoverboard; just in case.

TL;DR: Hollywood, I'm available as a script doctor. Call me.

The Digital Afterlife

Nine years. It was nine years ago today I lost a sister, my parents lost a daughter, and all of us lost a friend.

Coincidentally (or perhaps not), just two days ago, I received a piece of mail addressed to her "or current resident." Her existence definitely lives on, not just in Heaven or in our hearts, but also in some random database that, apparently, never got the memo.

Right now, her Facebook profile still sits right where she left it, as if any minute now she'll post a new update or share a new photo. (Wishful thinking.) That profile will probably sit there in perpetuity until either Facebook ceases to exist, or it gets hacked by the Russians.

This has made me think a lot about how much of ourselves gets left behind. Our digital identities that are immune to the ravages of more traditional organic maladies. (Try saying that sentence five times fast. Record the effort and please send me a copy.)

This blog, for example, could potentially remain for decades after I too am gone.

I don't know if the words I leave behind will ever entertain or make an impact in any meaningful way, but it is still a fascinating idea to me that some of my thoughts might continue to live on for future generations, possibly for hundreds, or even thousands, of years. Just try to imagine the future conversations about the Greats: Plato, Socrates, Topher... Hey, it could happen! Just look at who we elect as politicians. *rimshot*

(*I'm just kidding about that last part. Well, not the bit about politicians those guys are assholes.)

(**Okay, maybe not all politicians. Only the ones you disagree with.)

(***Editor's note: The staff here at Topher's Realm would like to interrupt this message to say that the earlier politician joke was meant solely for levity. I, for one, welcome all of our political overlords. Please think of me as a blogsperson you can trust. I can also be a highly paid online voice for your mighty establishment. Please keep me in mind. I have no shame. 

Now back to the original post.)

Many of us maintain presences on multiple social media accounts these days, which theoretically will last until the last human has mutated into a gelatinous puddle of goo and the sun explodes.

Even then, my own love of The Barenaked Ladies will still be broadcasting all by itself over on MySpace.

In any event, whether or not you believe in a spiritual afterlife, you certainly can't argue against the existence of a digital one. 

After all, even if you've been gone for nearly a decade, you can still be pre-approved to get a Lowe's card.

Narrows of the Heart...eth

Today has been a very remarkable day indeed. 

It began with Amanda and I having a small debate about grabbing something to eat. Funds are tight, so something as simple as "actually going somewhere" for food sometimes requires a bit of foresight and planning. We decided it is okay to occasionally live a little (in responsible moderation of course), so off to the local pizza joint we went.

The food was fantastic. The Wi-Fi? Fast and reliable. We caught up on some Star Wars YouTube videos as we ate our greasy little slices of Heaven. As we were getting ready to grab our to-go box for later consumption (the pizza not the box), the waitress informed us that the sheriff's department had already paid for everyone's meal. Both of us immediately started to tear up, because not only would it help ease the worry over spending money, but also because of how awesome that generous act of holiday kindness actually was. (We're both softies. Shut up.)

Our hearts and spirits suddenly full, we spontaneously decided to go somewhere we hadn't been before, but just so happens to be only a few miles down the road from the house. There is a historic state park called Narrows of the Harpeth (probably worth a Google), where in the early 1800’s one of America’s very first full-scale tunnels was dug out from beneath a limestone cliff, thus diverting the river in order to power an iron foundry.

♫“There’s a hole, there’s a hole, there’s a hole in the bottom of this cliff.”♫

These days it is a popular spot for canoeing and hiking (also presumably for some steamy, middle-of-the-woods-makin’-out-before-the-crazy-axe-murderer-finds-you), so we figured a nice walk somewhere new would be a great way to complete the day. First, we hiked down to the historic tunnel itself.

And took the obligatory selfie. My glasses, however, didn’t get the memo.

Golly, that sure is a lot of water gushing out of that hole. I bet every living creature that comes near this spot has a sudden urge to pee. (*Not pictured.)

Oh, hey, you know what would be even more exciting? Climbing all the way to the top of that precarious-looking cliff which has had tons of water rushing beneath it for the last two centuries!

We’ve only gone like ten steps and already this is the view. We’re definitely going to feel this later.

So up we went. And up. And up. We looked around for the escalator, but there were none to be found.

This is what happens when you buy the cheap tickets.

Yeesh how much higher does this thing go? We probably should have read all of those posted warnings at the start of the trail. Still, I have to tell you, the view up here was phenomenal.

No, really, phen-om-en-al.

Just for the record, we’re not even at the top yet.

Quitting is for losers, but it can also sometimes lead to better health. Dude, I’m just a caption, not a life coach. You do you, boo.

Whew, at this point we’re definitely feeling the burn, but wow was it ever worth the effort! Also, exercise n' stuff! Whoo!

Sadly, she couldn’t see her house from here.

Eventually, what climbs up, must climb all the way back down. But first, a snack!

Yes, both of the sides you see are sheer drops. It's called Narrows for a reason, people. Perfect for high-altitude apple tossing, though.

Eventually, Amanda caught on that I was sneakily taking her picture every few seconds, so I promised to put the camera away as we descended back to base camp- er, I mean the parking lot. But obviously we made it back down safely, because otherwise, who’s writing this? I mean, I’m good, but I'm not that good.

The point is, we probably wouldn’t have been inspired to have an adventure at all had it not been for the seemingly random kindness from some strangers. A small gesture, perhaps- yet one that completely changed the course of the day. There is always something worth seeing, if you simply choose to see it. You don’t even have to go hiking to find it.

Although hiking couldn't hurt, except maybe physically.

Oh, p.s. Amanda says hi, everyone.