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I’m Not So Proud of My Country (or Day 2)

Today, I woke up and it was actually cool outside. It feels like ages since I last felt a cool breeze. Air conditioner just isn’t the same as crisp, cool air.

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I had breakfast at a native American buffet and I started to think about culture. I started to think about what terrible people we are. We came over from England and basically told this land’s original inhabitants that we owned the land and that they had to leave. And we have the audacity to be proud of this nation? We should be ashamed of ourselves.

The Cherokee people were once great. Now they have become a tourist attraction. They sell tickets to people to watch them do what once was a way of life.

We even gave them a new name. Native American is not what they are. This wasn’t America before we came here. Now these people are “allowed” to live in small groups across the US.

That brings me to another thought I had. America has no real culture of it’s own. Other nations have their own distinct styles of art, clothing ways of life etc. Here in America, we just take other culture’s distinctiveness and add it to our own. There is no “American” language, we took that from the British. Even the architecture of our own capitol city is borrowed from a people long gone.

I am finding it more and more difficult to be proud of my nation. Don’t get me long, I mean no disrespect to those who have fought to protect me. I may not agree with the idea of war or armies, but I am thankful that there are men and women who are willing to put their own well being at risk for my freedom.

Anyway, enough of my rambling. After I had breakfast I visited a turbine mill built in the late 19th century.

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After that, I headed to a mountain which name escapes me, and hiked to the top. A lot of the trees on the mountainside were dead or dying so we asked one of the park rangers what was happening and she told us that a tiny insect that had come over from Europe had multiplied and it had no natural predator so it just keeps growing in number. It drills tiny holes in the base of the trees so that the trees can’t draw nutrients from the soil and they eventually die.

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After the hike I had lunch by a creek and tried to take pictures of some fish, but they were to fast.

I then spent the rest if the day relaxing around the campground.

How I Arrived (or Day 1)

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I had a fairly interesting day.

I woke up and packed in ten minutes and then had to go to work. When I got to work, the sky was clear and it was about 90 degrees. An older woman got over heated and passed out. So we had a fire truck and an ambulance at work and a team of paramedics took the lady away on a stretcher.

After that, a storm suddenly rolled in and lightning started hitting all around me. The storm sirens sounded and a small tornado passed about 20 miles from my house.

While this was going on, I met a really cool French hipster with awesome glasses. I kind of wish I was French now. Or Scottish. Or British. Anything besides boring American.

After work, I left for North Carolina. It was a rather long drive, but I had some Elton John and Owl City to keep me company. I had to pull over to make a phone call and a K-9 unit cop car turned his lights on and pulled over behind me. He was just checking to make sure I was alright, but he scared me half to death.

I almost got lost when it got dark and I found myself in the foothills of the Smoky mountains on my own. It was pitch black save my feeble headlights. I don’t often find myself in places without artificial light, and I now I know why. It was disturbing. I felt utterly alone. I much prefer a good smoggy city. All of this fresh air is killing me.

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I wrote a blog post about my Hipster obsession.

I wish I could be a hipster. Hipster is just such a fun word to say. Hipster. Just say it out loud. Isn’t it just fun? I wish I could be a Scottish hipster, but, I’m kind of from Georgia…..

I wish I was hipster, but I’m not skinny and I don’t wear tight, worn jeans or vintage apparel. I don’t have an obsession with Indie-rock (though it is pretty awesome), and I’m not in the 20-30 year old age range just yet.

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I just want to fall through a crack in time and find my self in an alternate reality where I would be Andrew Garfield with a Scottish accent and wear cool glasses. And I would work as a photojournalist and basically live at coffee shops. And on the weekends I would travel to the downtowns of famous cities and soak up the night life. Or maybe I would just sit write for hours.

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In the alternate reality, I would have a Yorkshire Terrier named Liam and I would live in a totally glass house on the top of huge green hill where it would always be raining.

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Too bad gashes in reality are still quite a while in our future. Don’t ask how I know that.

(I am from the future.)

Theories about time travel

I think the idea of time travel is intriguing. There are three general theories about what would happen if it were possible.

1.) By going back, time would be rewound therefor you would have no memory of going back and time would unravel the same way. This would make travel to the future theoretically impossible.

2.) When you travel backward or forward in time, you could possibly encounter another version of yourself. Some say the consequences of encountering yourself could be disastrous, others say it would do little damage to the time continuum.

3.) The last theory is much like the first. If time is rewound, only the person (or people) within the “time machine” would be aware of what happened and there would be no alternate versions of themselves. They could then theoretically relive their lives.

My favorite theory is number three; what do you think?