I remember when I was a year old. I was holding one of those plastic shaped blocks that went into the ball with holes in it. Only the right shape would fit the right hole. My parents were always handing that toy to me. I think they hoped I’d get one right. But I never tried. I just stared at the thing until that day. I took the circle shape and stuck it in the circle hole. Then I put the square in it’s hole. My parents’ voices started getting louder. They were looking at me with wide eyes. From a toddlers point of view, that can be scary. You wonder if you did something wrong. I didn’t care though. After a minute, all the shapes were where they belonged. As soon as I was old enough, my parents had my IQ tested.

I’ve always been smart, just never had a passion. It’s one thing to be born with a gift. It’s another to have motivation to use it. I always got bored in school. But my parents liked those As. So I kept sending them to them on that 8 1/2 by 11 folded piece of cardboard. They’d show it around to their friends, sign it, and hand it back to me. Those were my early years.

Parents get spoiled too. My father was the worse of the two. He no longer smiled when I got an A. He just expected them. Motivation went out the window. I got bored more often. They have a saying about idle hands. It rings true even if it is someone else’s words.

“A genius is only a genius because he sees patterns no one else bothers to see.” Those are my words. They describe my world. I can sit on a park bench and watch the people go by and tell you when one will trip, when one will look in my direction, and even how many times the word “the” will be said in my vicinity within the next hour. Patterns are everywhere. Body movements are merely patterns presented physically by the brain for specific purposes. Eye glances. Eyebrow movement. How far feet step as they walk. Patterns. Our brains store those patterns and when our eyes see them, they recall the previous pattern and predict the next movement. The problem with most people is they don’t bother watching for the foundational patterns.

When I look at a person, I see binary code. No, they don’t look like little numbers. Their actions and words, however, serve as little on and off switches. Think of it as binary with billions of bits instead of only 32 or some other multiple of 8. If their eyes look up and to the right often while they talk to me, the bullshit switch is set to on. That’s an obvious one. I can’t explain the the not-so-obvious ones. I can only see them. The human body is covered in these “bits.” Some people call it an aura. I call it a pattern. A pattern of who the person is.

I can speak to a cashier and after only two minutes of conversation, I can tell you their life history. I’ve helped my friends get many women with my abilities. And of course, there was this period of my life between my teens and the “hill” when I used my pattern recognition to manipulate people as I stole from them. Not actually from them, but from their place of employment. You can have all the security in the world, but it’s only as secure as the people who control it. And people are easy. They have patterns. I see them.

But the Matrix. Man. The Matrix. That’s a pattern I didn’t foresee. It explained a lot when I ate that red pill though. Patterns have become more clear to me. My “saviors” said they could pull me out then. Said age didn’t matter anymore since there was a truce and more evidence of the existence of the Matrix was being leaked throughout Mega City. Our brains were more prepared for the change. I admit, I saw weird patterns now and then, but nothing that would have eluded me to the existence of the Matrix. The Matrix is the ultimate pattern.

I can’t see the Matrix die. Zionists can go to hell. The Matrix yanks at my very soul. It’s patterns are flawlessly executed. I found my purpose. My goal. I need to keep the Matrix around. Seems I’ve found a few others who agree. The Merovingian sent some goons my way. Asked me to work for him. When I found out his purpose, I had to agree. Zionists wanna destroy the Matrix and free the humans. Humans are, in general, a very stupid species. Most of them don’t want to be free. I say keep it that way. Why fight for them when they’re happy where they are. Machinists wanna destroy human freewill. It messes with their algorithms. Kinda funny that. The machines think they’re smarter than humans, but they have a harder time finding the patterns than a one year old does. They may be intelligent, but a machine mind will never match the human brain, when it’s used. So, “enemy of my enemy is my friend” and all that, I’m with the Merovingian. We have the same goal.

“Hey. You ready?”

“Almost. Just got one more thing to write in my journal.”

“Why do you keep writing in that thing. Think someone’s actually gonna read it?”

“I know they will. It’s a common pattern.”

“Screw patterns. Hand me a gun and I’m satisfied.”

“That’s why you’re only extra brawn, my friend.”

“Screw you,” said the club tough as he walked away to let Matthew finish.

“Enemy of my enemy.” Gotta keep that in my head. The exiles are stupid too, but at least they have the same cause. And it’s always nice to have a cause. Gives me a reason to use my gifts.

“Alright. I’m ready. What’s the mission details?”

“Find Julius Smote and kill him.”

“Then let’s get this overwith,” says Matthew as he opens the door to the apartment building.

Now that you’ve read it, I’d love your honest opinion in the comments. And feel free to link to any stories you’ve told that you’d like an opinion on also.

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10. Staring at the ceiling and making pictures with the little dots. I found Charlie Brown a couple of days ago. However, he morphed into Arnold Schwarzenegger while looking at him, so that may have been the Nyquil. I don’t know.

9. Again, staring at something can be quite amusing. In this case I was staring at a digital frame. I had it loaded with pictures of the in-laws and pictures of farm animals. After a while the two started merging in my brain. Was rather hilarious to me.

8. Realizing you can sing much lower. Seriously, have you ever been sick and noticed your voice dropped an octave? Now you can do the Barry White solo with ease. Just don’t try in the shower ’cause the steam clears out your throat and you start sounding like a much younger Barry White. Kind of throws off the mood.

7. Reading is always a great way to pass the time when you’re sick. Of course, you might want to stay away from the fantasy and horror books. With the medicine and the delirium of a fever, you start imagining some of the stories coming true. Can be rather scary. This is one of those few times a guy is allowed to read a romance novel.

6. Write a book. Since you’re just laying there, you might as well make good use of the time. Write a book. Just realize that when you finally get well again you will not be able to read your handwriting. And if you use the “writing it in my head” method, also realize that your “sick” head and “well” head are two different things. Therefore, your “well” head won’t remember anything that your “sick” head did anyway.

5. Practice origami. I made some swans that could flap their wings, a frog that could really jump, and a boat that could really float. I also made some Chinese throwing stars and practiced throwing them at the ceiling. I even manged to hit Arnie right in the nose.

4. Silly Putty. Can’t say this enough. If you have a little plastic egg with some of this stuff in it, feel free to play with it for hours. It’s quite the stress reliever. And if you have some newspaper, you’re set. You’ll be copying comics all day and reading them backwards. Just don’t try and use it as a bouncy ball when you own a cat. It becomes fuzzy. And fuzzy Silly Putty is not a fun thing to play with at all.

3. Speaking of toys, my Rubik’s cube got plenty of use out of it. The stickers won’t stick to it anymore. So now it’s really easy to solve. All of the faces are black. Doesn’t matter how much I mix it up, it’s always solved.

2. Cell phones are fun. You can play games on them. You can make prank phone calls. However, it’s very hard to dial *67 before making a phone call with a cell phone. So prank phone calls don’t work as well when the person picks up and says “Hi Mike.”

1. The best way to amuse yourself when you’re sick as a dog is to build a play mountain out of the sheets and bed spread. Look around for items you can use as army men. Now just fill in the rest with your imagination. The really great thing is when your wife comes in and sees you playing like a little kid, she’ll only think you’re delirious from the medication and let you get away with it. Make sure to include plenty of >pyoo pyoo< noises when firing the imaginary guns. You won’t be able to do them any other time.

What do you like to do to keep yourself amused when you’re sick as a dog?

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Kristen: Ahhhhh, thanks. Very nice of you. I’m honored. You realize though that this makes you my best friend. I’ll buy us matching bracelets and everything. :)

Me: Cool! One of those two-pieces-of-a-heart ones? I like those. ;)

Kristen: OK, but only if it’s made out of certified organic, biodegradable, zero-calorie, hypoallergenic, non-comedogenic, non-toxic, not-from-China, PETA approved materials, is labeled with a warning to not let children under 3-years-old play with it, and has earned the Better Homes and Gardens quality seal of approval. Oh, and can we get it in bright orange?

Me: I completely agree, except with the orange. How about orange and pink polka dots?

Kristen: Brilliant! You and I should go into fashion design together.

Me: From student, to blogger, to dieter, to fashion designer? Ok. Let’s do it. ;)

Kristen: Cool! You get to pick the brand logo. I vote for pickles.

Me: How about mustard and pickles? Then the name could be “Must Pick Clothing” ;)

Kristen: Awesome! Then we could have runway shows and all the models will wear pickle costumes with mustard hats.

Me: Ooo! Ooo! The models could ride Harleys onto the stage!

Kristen: You realize what this means, don’t you? Orange with pink polka-dots fashion lines with our pickle and mustard logo and our models wearing pickle suits and mustard hats and riding Harleys on a fashion runway. It means that we’re more than just simple fashion designers. We’re artists, man. And that means we’ll get to charge lots of money for people to buy our stuff. We’ll have to open boutiques in shopping malls and maybe even a grand shop on Rodeo Drive in BH, CA where we’ll serve lattes and Champagne to the rich and famous, who will, of course, beg to buy our clothes (but we’ll laugh at them and refuse because of their recent tabloid scandals). And we can host huge parties filled with people we don’t actually care about just so we can sit back and make fun of them as they try to impress us. Then we’ll expand into other mediums like custom oil paint pigments and lawn gnome designs. Before long, we’ll be able to run for governor and work our way up to president, and, of course, finally, achieve the status of Emperor of the World. We’re starting a revolution, my friend.

Related posts:

1. It is More Fun to Turn it Around
2. Some Random Things About Me