scriptor-ludifico

[scriptor-ludifico]

Time Loops

I wrote this like a year ago and just found it again. Reading it again, I quite liked, so I did a bit of editing and here it is! It's a complete work of fiction inspired by some things (fanfics) I was reading at the time. It's a bit spooky, even though it's all fake it invokes some anxiety in me, so read with caution I guess? There's nothing explicit or graphic, but scary things are mentioned in brief. It's certainly not perfect, but I hope you enjoy it!

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BEEP BEEP BEEP. My alarm rings from across the room. I pull off my quilt and make the short journey to shut it off before returning to my bed. I pick up my phone and check the date: September 15th. The date I’ve longed to see. For what could have been days, weeks, months, or years, the only date that stared back at me was September 14th. I get up to hurry to the bathroom before remembering that I woke up on time. That was rare on September 14th. I had forgotten to set my alarm—something I couldn’t fix—and nearly always woke up at 7:00 am sharp. I check the time: my phone shows 5:34. I pull my quilt back over and remind myself to breathe.

As I lock the door behind me, the morning chill brushes across my face. It’s so much like September 14th. I check my phone: September 15th. I take a deep breath and set out down the block. I come up on our normal spot. Sam’s already waiting for me, leaning against the tree that killed one or both of us hundreds of times.

“It’s Friday,” he tells me. I can’t remember the last Friday I experienced. I take another breath.

“It is,” I say with a smile.

When we arrive at school, there’s buzzing about the local arrest yesterday. Early in the morning, at 7:01 AM, an anonymous tip reached the police about a potential shooter. It took me far too many cycles to find the solution to that problem. I had once thought to stop him myself, but that never worked. Other times, I’d simply forgotten or it had been too late, and the police too slow. If only I’d woken up earlier. It’ll be a long time before I sleep in again.

In chemistry, I keep watching for someone to go to the wrong cabinet, to make a mistake. But we aren’t doing a lab today. I check my laptop: September 15th. There’s no lab report due today. It was due on September 14th, at the end of class. That’s why everyone was rushing. Why it was so easy to make a mistake. I didn’t get my assignment done, but I’ll gladly take the zero.

At lunch, I order a slice of pizza.

“Where were you yesterday?” the lunch lady asks me. “I saved your favorite sandwich.”

“Just wasn’t hungry,” I tell her. “The pizza’s fine, thanks.”

I take the slice and sit down. I used to always get a sandwich. The lunch lady always insisted on saving my favorite one for me. But someone made a mistake on September 14th. They put nuts in it. How? I don’t f*cking know. At least that was an easy one to fix. It only took one cycle to realize what happened. I had considered getting something else, but I stopped eating lunch after that. Just to be safe.

In metalworking, Mrs. Newman asked me, “So, are you actually going to solder today, or keep sanding?” She means it lightheartedly, but she had been confused when I refused to solder on September 14th. I check as I put my phone away: September 15th.

“Yeah, I will,” I tell her.

“Great!” she says as she pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you.”

I only laugh in response. She doesn’t know what it could do. Despite her reassurance, I still wait until another spot is open to avoid using the middle torch. I just can’t. I’m not ready.

But it all goes smoothly, and when the bell rings, I hurry to my friends and usher them to leave quickly—a habit. They’re confused, asking if I have an appointment again, like yesterday. I never did. I tell them I don’t, and they question why I’m in such a hurry. I check again: September 15th. I take a deep breath and slow down. I tell them I just want to get home, and they laugh about my rush to be away from them. They’ll never know what I did to protect them, so I just laugh along.

When I get home, I lock the door and go to lock the windows and close all the curtains, but I pause. I check my phone: September 15th. I put my bag down and kick off my shoes. I take a deep breath and go to lie down. I just keep staring at my phone, worried it’s all a trick.

The back door opens, and my breath hitches.

“I’m home!” my mom’s voice calls out. I breathe again. She’s home, safe, alive, at 4:12, not dead in a car accident at 5:08. I hurry downstairs anyway, just to check and give her a hug.

“Oh, again?” she questions. “I never got hugs before yesterday.”

“I just felt like it,” I respond as she embraces me in return.

And when my dad returns from work at 5:15, instead of bleeding out at 4:23 or being stuck in a burning train at 4:57, I give him a hug too. Proof that everything is okay. Proof that I made it. Proof that I saved them. But I make dinner again, just in case. Just like I did in the last cycle. The last thing I fixed: an allergy to squash my mom didn’t know she had. I bring it up that night, September 15th, saying I read that it might be a possibility with some of her other allergies. She says she isn’t, but promises to be careful and get checked later. I revel in the feeling of all of us around the table, eating a simple dish of pasta with white sauce. I’ve never been a cook, but we’re together and alive.

When I get into bed that night, I check in with my friends, making sure everyone got home okay. They confirm but ask if I’m okay. I tell them it’s just a little anxiety. I say I have no clue where it came from. They reassure me, and we all say our goodnights. The last message is sent at 10:07, but I stay lying awake in my bed. I stare at the date and time: September 15th, 11:59 PM. Then the clock ticks over: September 16th. I breathe a sigh of relief and put my phone down. I shut my eyes and go to sleep, finally sure that I made it. That I saved them. That I’m alive. That I’m free. That it’s not September 14th, 2023.

[scriptor-ludifico]

Hobbies

There isn’t really any reason for this one. No prompt. Just my mind.

July 3rd 2022

Hobbies

By Yours Truly

I have a… complicated relationship with hobbies. I have tried many different things and often like them at least a little and indulge in them occasionally. However, my interests just don’t seem to stick. I am usually very interested in something for a few days and then it just fades away. The only interests that have stuck are physics and engineering. However they aren’t true “hobbies”. There isn’t much I can do with those interests to keep me from dying of boredom. I can research, which I do, but that can get tiring when I can’t do much with the information I find. I’m still learning and just don’t have access to many resources. 

I find many other hobbies I hear about to be intriguing but they often require skill or resources that I lack. I always tell myself that I’ll try something when I’m an adult and can do and buy whatever. However, I doubt that will happen. I’ll just always put it off for one reason or another. That’s just how I operate; eternally procrastinating on anything I don’t have to get done. It’s unfortunate really. Maybe if I actually made the commitment to try I would like it and find a hobby for me. Something that I enjoy, makes me feel accomplished, and keeps me occupied.

 I do read a lot but most people do and I honestly mostly just read stuff online instead of “real” books. I was always very opposed to reading as a child. However, I blame that fact on people always forcing me to read when I didn’t want to. No child wants to do something they are being forced to do. 

I also have a complicated relationship with writing. I love brainstorming and worldbuilding all kinds of fantasies but I can never write them. I’m just not the best writer and feel sad seeing my wonderful idea written out so poorly. Also my ability to plan something long enough for a whole novel isn’t great. I can come up with fun character traits and little scenes that could happen but making some overarching plot to connect everything is hard for me. I don’t know how authors do it. 

Well thanks for listening to my little rant. I just felt like writing something as an exercise in creativity and this is what came to mind. 

[scriptor-ludifico]

A Scaramucci

This is a short essay prompted by one of University of Chicago’s essay prompts this year. I am looking at colleges to apply to and heard about their infamous essay prompts and while I’m not applying this year I felt so strongly about some of their prompts I decided to write my own essays for them anyways. So here is one of those:

Prompt: “ In Homer’s Iliad, Helen had a “face that launched a thousand ships.” A millihelen, then, measures the beauty needed to launch one ship. The Sagan unit is used to denote any large quantity (in place of “billions and billions”). A New York Minute measures the period of time between a traffic light turning green and the cab behind you honking. Invent a new unit of measurement. How is it derived? How is it used? What are its equivalents? —Inspired by Carina Kane, Class of 2024, and Ishaan Goel, Class of 2025″

November 24 2021

A Scaramucci

By Yours Truly

Now I am not the first person to write about the Scaramucci online. I know this because my mother ruined my dreams by finding it on wikipedia; here’s a link for your viewing: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_humorous_units_of_measurement#:~:text=A%20Scaramucci%20is%2011%20. I respect their entry but I still wish to steal the glory from my father and brother (even though another has stolen it first) and elaborate on the use of this unit. The wikipedia entry defines a Scaramucci as “11 (sometimes 10) days and is named after the length of White House Communications Director Anthony Scaramucci's tenure under President Trump. A Scaramucci is shortened to a Mooch” which I mostly agree with but my family uses a Scaramucci or “Mooch” as ten days. Sidenote: I don’t agree with the shortened version of the unit due it’s misspelling of the word. It should be “Mucc” or “Mucci” not “Mooch” with two Os as Scaramucci is not spelled with two Os. It isn’t even spelled with one O. 

Now that our unit has been defined and correctly named let us explore it’s uses. Technically it could be used to measure any amount of time, however, my family prefers to use it regarding political based times or any amount of time not expected to be long or decaying to nothing. So mostly it should be used to express how long something lasted or how long you believe it will last. My brother jokingly suggested it be used to measure half-life, however, half-life is how long till half is left. A Scaramucci should only be used to say when nothing is left. 

Some equivalents could be the obvious 10 days, or the average 3 Scaramuccis in a month. Even 36.5 Scaramuccis in a year. I’d like to say that google docs really wants the plural of Scaramucci to be “Scaramuccia” instead of “Scaramuccis”. Which I find hilarious as upon a google search I have found that a “Scaramouche” or the Italian “Scaramuccia” is a 16th century stock clown character. I now see where Google stands regarding Anthony Scaramucci. Due to this hilarious fact I will, from this point forward, use Scaramuccia as the plural of a Scaramucci. Sorry for the tangent.

I could list more equivalents of a Scaramucci, however, theoretically you could convert any unit of time to Scaramuccia if you wished. Though, you may not be using it correctly (reference paragraph two). I would, however, like to note that while scrolling through the previously quoted wikipedia page that established a Scaramucci that it is nearly equivalent to a kilowarhol, which is 15,000 minutes or 10.42 days. This being derived from Andy Warhol’s dictum “everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.” 

I hope anyone who reads this will now use Scaramuccia to record many times in their life as my family does around the dinner table constantly. If you don't do so  well then you’re missing out. I mean who doesn’t love a base 10 system? Metric is far superior (even though I’m from the US) and using a Scaramucci you can even make your time base 10. Those around you may not understand your schedules and never seem to show up on time but it’s all worth it to know your unit is superior. Though you can’t actually use it like that unless you want to be wrong (reference paragraph two! How many times have I told you this?). Use it right folks, and stop allowing me to fool you so easily.