A Martian Wish

Here I am, sitting in front of an old school CRT monitor bombarding my eyes with electron beams that cross an organic material known as phosphor at around 85-MHz; at the same time millions and millions of electric pulses are going out of my computer while hundreds, probably tens of thousands of radio waves on such high frequencies that my measly human body cannot comprehend are going right through me, carrying countless telephone conversations, TV newscasts, podcasts, cooking food and furry animals concoct plots against us in high pitched languages we cannot comprehend.

I also happen to be sitting on a building on top of a rocky structure we call Earth, that is to happens right now its being pummeled with winds gusting at 45 mile per hour and water in falling from the heavens. In the center of this Earth there's a core of molten iron with a radius of about 3,400 Km. formed sometime around 4.5 billion years ago in some form of a phenomenon called the iron catastrophe and it is rotating at 0.04 degrees relative to the Earth's surface rotation, which is a mean of 7.2921150 ×10⁻⁵ radians per second on the equator. The convection of the outer core and the Coriolis effect cause create something called the Earth's magnetic field extending several tens of thousands of kilometer to outer space.

Between that core and the rocky surface in which the building I'm sitting on is resting, there is lava flowing on its own underground ocean at 1,200C more or less; there's also tectonic plates constantly moving and shifting and twisting and grumbling. All this is moving at the speed of 100,000 Km. an hour around an unbelievable hot mass of burning gas at temperatures of 15.5 million degrees Celsius shooting light at 300,000 Km. per second. All this is happening on an ever expanding soup of gas, matter and anti-matter that seems to be expanding and chasing after its own tail since the fateful day of a Big Bang.

Sometimes we also board moving machines that transport us at around 100 Km. an hour amongst tens of thousands of theses machines hectically running around. At a time we may rest, sleep and dream of strawberry fields and places never seen; other times we run or board flying machines that move us 9 Km. above the surface of the Earth.

And I'm not alone. There another 6'800,000'000,000 human beings just like me made of a bunch of atoms and energy that is never created nor destroyed, only transformed; fully cognizant that we will eventually die and become nothing more but compost in this never ending circle of life.

... wow... all that schitt is going on and yet we worry about emails, sometimes unsent emails, phone calls in the middle of the night, text-messages in the drafts folder, pictures never taken, Facebook statuses, MySpace and forum comments by anonymous whoever he or she might be, about the shoes we wear to work, the fragrance on a shirt's neck, oil and blood stains that detergent can't get out, the frequencies range our headphones can't reproduce, the cost of living and the cost of dying, expiring coupons, TV channels not on our package, the clothing of digital avatars, stats of a bunch of adventurous online pixels, the color of our hair, the length of our beards, the smell of our pants, the food we can't have, the extra pounds we shouldn't have, unrequited love and reciprocal hate, fantasies that exist only in our minds on dark and still nights, the drinkability of our beers, untold words, spoken words, kisses given, kisses stolen, kisses not given, tears not shed, the water cooler conversations, meetings stuck in, missing football games, matching accessories and paper cuts...

We forget at times, that just by standing here, we are already beating cosmic odds of existing. We should enjoy it, as it is, as it comes.

Why waste it, my Good Ol' Three Faithful Readers?

* Inspired by a Martian Child, who we all happen to be at some point. Also by sugar puffs.