Why is it that I never can think of anything I want to write
about when I have the time? But when I'm lying in bed, drifting
off to sleep, I'm suddenly flooded with ideas that will disappear
if they aren't written down right away?
as if there a small voice inside me holding me back until
I'm tucked under the warm comfort of a duvet. I'm in a safety
zone that allows my mind to drift. But at the office, when
given hours on end with nothing to do (during those supposedly
luxurious moments known as "Downtime" ) I freeze
up. The last thing I seem to want to do is to start stream
of consciousness diatribes. So I surf the web.
sure before the times of the Internet I would have spent my
time writing. But the advent of instant transmissions has
made me a consumer rather than a producer.
the internet not arrived, I'm sure I would have written several
children's books for adults. Ed was developing quite nicely
until I went off to university. The came Barney and friends,
and Ed was no longer the only purple dinosaur on the planet.
(The only fire-breathing one though).
the theories that have dissolved into the cool air of my unlit
bedroom. I'm sure I've solved the problems of time travel
(The key to which was unlocked by an obscure SuperGoofy comic
book when I was young). I seem to recall my theory was time
travel cannot exist... and in fact all that happens is destined
to happen. Life is an infinite series of decisions, moments,
choices. Every keystroke creates an alternate reality, where,
had I not mis-typed, I would be trailing off to another further,...
moment presents us with infinite choices and opportunities.
The infinite paths that continue to spring forth prevent time
travel from occurring. Were you to travel back in time, even
for a few moments, there would be an infinite number of time
paths you could encounter. In each time path there would be
a duplicate you. But returning to the time you departed from
would be near impossible, since travelling forward, you would
not be able to distinguish the path you came from, as an infinite
number of futures rocket forth.
what I think now.
I used to think was if you went back in time onto any one
path, everything has been pre-determined. Unless it is predetermined
that you arrive in the timeline, all is set. Simply displacing
the air would be impossible, as every molecule, atom would
have its place, and there would be no place for you. As in
the SuperGoofy comic book, grass would be razor sharp, water
guns would effectively shoot acid. You could change nothing.
fact, the addition of your presence in the past would cause
a discontinuity in the universe. After all, there is a finite
amount of matter in the universe, and your presence in another
timeline would cause an imbalance in the amount of matter
in that universe. The effect is a point to question.
we’re still working on the question: Why is it that
I never can think of anything I want to write about when I
have the time?