Is It Cheese?

Something very strange is happening inside my refrigerator right now. In fact, it is bothering me to no measurable end. See, I am a fan of dairy products. A big fan of dairy products. I go through a gallon of milk in three days, a brick of cheese is lucky to make it a week, yogurts are gone 15 days before they expire (for those who don't shop for yogurts often, that's about 3 days after I buy them). I am in fact such a large fan of dairy that I have stopped taking my medication simply because it won't let me eat or drink dairy products 2 hours before or after consuming the medicine.

It is this love for dairy that has led me to my strange discovery, and it is my love for cheese that worries me so much about this current mystery. What has happened is this. I have been living in this apartment for five weeks now. On my first day moving in, I filled the fridge. Amongst my purchases were Kraft American Singles and a brick of Kraft Sharp Cheddar. It turns out I don't like Kraft Sharp Cheddar, so it ended up sitting in my fridge until it grew mold. That took about a week. Here's the mystery. The Kraft Singles have been sitting in there for five weeks as of today, and they don't have a single freckle of mold forming anywhere on them!

I noticed this two weeks ago, and so to speed up the process, I took a single out of the wrapper and left it on the bottom shelf. Nothing happened. No mold, no condensation, nothing. It is just a piece of cheese sitting on the bottom shelf of a fridge. Last week I bought more cheese (Crackerbarrel sharp cheddar if you are interested). I cut a small square off and placed it on top of the Kraft single. The Crackerbarrel had mold growing on it within three days. Today, the whole square is nice and moldy. Here's the best part. The mold stops the second it gets to the Kraft Single!

What the hell are Kraft Singles made out of?! It can't possibly be dairy, because if it were, mold wouldn't be so scared of it. It isn't cheese, that much is certain. I mean, it doesn't even really taste like cheese. It's orange, but that's about the only parallel I can draw. So if it isn't dairy, and it isn't cheese, what is it?

See, it's a mystery. Help me solve it. Help me discover the truth about Kraft Singles. I'm already looking into whether or not they were produced by aliens- pick a hypothesis, and research into it. This problem needs to be solved!

Waking or Sleeping?

Have you ever had one of those dreams that you are so certain is real that even when you wake up in your bed, you still are unsure how much of the dream was a dream and how much of it actually happened? Well, I just had one, which is why my blog today is being written at 05:53(a.m., but I use the 24 hour clock for those who don't know) and will, for the second time since its creation, be about something serious. Allow me to share, because I think it's one of those sharing dreams. It's short, so don't worry, and the message will come at the end. For those who come for my cynicism, I am sorry. But this was just too important to pass up.

My brother and I were driving down to the city. For some reason, we have been doing this rather often while I sleep. The way we get there is always different, as if the roads keep changing. That's important, because today we had a long drive. Exiting "the city" (I have no clue which city it is, but it oddly resembles my memories of Paris), we took a wrong turn and ended up driving onto an on-ramp which went over a hundred feet up into the air. At the top, my heart began to beat rather fast, and I could feel myself getting dizzy. I clutched the wheel harder, drove onwards, but began to see double of everything. Something bad was about to happen, and I needed to get to ground level before it did. As the wheels of my car rolled out of the elevated turn and back onto the ground based road, my heart gave one quick pound, and I died.

This is where things got interesting. Everything changed. My brother vanished from the car and everything became clearer; as if the sun had risen in the sky, but was nowhere to be seen. Behind me was sitting a person who I once knew, long ago. He was a friend of mine, if I remember correctly, or maybe the son of a friend of my mothers? I don't know, it was that long ago. What I do know is that he died when I was very young, and ever since that moment I have related death to his face. He said nothing. I looked at him, and asked him "why here?" but he said nothing. He just smiled at me, and pointed out the window at nothing but that strange light.

Worry set in. Last I had been alive, I was on the road, driving a car, with my brother in the passenger seat next to me. Was he alright? I turned to ask the... whatever he was- the spirit? He smiled. Then my memory flashed with events from the previous night. I had been up all evening talking with my friend and former roommate Kyle about our ridiculous, but rather exciting future. Realizing I would never see it, I became depressed. Then my thoughts turned to those people I love; all of them. And I realized I had not told anyone that I loved them in months. I had closed the doors, and no one knew. The spirit smiled. I didn't.

Then, he reached out and touched my shoulder, and my body filled with warmth. His lips parted for the first time, and he said to me "One more chance." I was back in the car, my brother next to me, driving up into the air once again because of my wrong turn. Then, I woke.

I tell you this because even now, looking back on the entire dream, I realize it never happened. I also realize I do not believe in the afterlife, or a god, or any spirit that will welcome me in with open arms when I die. What I do know, however, is that even in the face of total disbelief and improbability, nothing has felt more real. No matter how you look at life, death, and the afterlife; we only have one shot at the life we are living now. Every life is the last chance, and I'm going to do things as best I can.

If you are reading this, chances are I know you. If ever you've made me smile, if ever we've joked together or laughed together or made fools of one another, if ever I've told you I hate you, if ever I've told you I love you, if ever you've seen me at my worst, if ever I've confided in you, if ever you've held my hand, if ever you read a book I recommended, or played with cars with me when I was little, if ever we went out to dinner together, if ever we've shared a bottle of wine, or if ever we broke open a case of beer, if ever we've watched a movie, if ever we have exchanged simple words, or if ever you've told me about God, if ever we have fallen out, even if we have not talked since; then thank you. I love you, and I thank you. You have helped shape the person I am today, and no matter how spiteful I am, no matter how depressed I become, you have made me happy, and made me who I am.

Thank you.

Direct Line

Did you know: The President of the United States has a direct line straight to the Pentagon. It is completely secure, untappable, unbreakable, unstoppable. So long as he is by his direct line telephone, he can make a secure call to the Pentagon with whatever orders he needs to give. He also has one to Russia that was set up during the cold war, so that no matter what happened, the two leaders would be able to contact each other.

Thinking about this made me decide one thing: I want a Direct Line somewhere! I don't even really care where it goes, I just want a direct line! How cool would it be to have a phone line that can never go down, no matter what happens to all the servers in the world? Just think, we nuke the whole planet, all the switchboards go off, all communications go down. So long as my line remains intact, I can still call my Eskimo buddies up north! I mean, I don't have Eskimo buddies, but I sure want them now, just for when the world is wiped out and I have a direct phone line to nowhere.

I'm really not bothered where it goes, but if I am lucky enough to get to choose, here are a few people I would like to share a direct line with:

Santa Clause. The guy is just so hard to get a hold of, and I have a very sneaky suspicion that the letters I used to send him as a kid never even made it to the North Pole. Does US Mail even deliver to the North Pole? Well, if I had a direct line to him, I wouldn't have to worry about frozen postal carriers and lost letters, would I?

ABC, and by extension whoever is in charge of Grey's Anatomy. This one I would like for a number of reasons. The first is so I could call them every day and let them know how not funny their show is. The second is so that for the first time since its release, someone could actually explain to me who is sleeping with who, and why people keep falling for the main character when she always looks like she is going to cry. Oh, also why people like the jockey frat guy when he so clearly resembles a frog.

Bill Gates. I just want to be able to bug him. I keep giving him money, and to be honest, I don't think I'm getting enough for what I pay. If I had a direct line to him and I could talk to him whenever I wanted, I think I would be alright with throwing countless thousands of dollars into his giant pockets.

God. Who wouldn't want that direct line?

That's pretty much it. A direct line would be fantastic. I know I've got you thinking, so tell me, if you could have a direct line to anyone, who would you pick?

(Your Name) Everywhere

James' Everywhere will like this blog, for you see, it is about them. That's right- every single James out there in the world, I'm writing to you today, because honestly, I feel like I am connected to each and every one of you. I so often throw out the phrase "it's a good day for James' everywhere!" and you know why? Because James', If I'm happy, I want all of you to be happy too. I don't want to be the only James in the world being happy, no no, I want to share this great feeling with all of you. And when I'm down, and "it's a bad day for James' everywhere," I hope that each and every one of you will help in sharing the burden of my day. James' everywhere, thank you- and I can't wait to meet you.

Now, I am curious, does anyone else share this bond with those who share their name? I find that when I meet a person named James, I immediately assume that I will like them. This is odd for me because I have a tendency to look at people through a very negative lens. In fact, I start most relationships under the assumption that I won't like a person, and they must prove me wrong. With James', it's a whole different story.

I do find, however, that this sets me up to be failed by James'. I am never failed by anyone else at the beginning of a relationship, because they can never actually let me down if I have already branded them as a failure. But James' have, in the past, hurt me. I have entered into the relationship thinking "Hell yea! Another James!" and ended it with a "I hope I never have to see (Insert Last Name Here) again!" Once a James fails me, he is no longer a James, but rather whatever his last name is. I don't enjoy disliking James', so I avoid the situation all together by removing them from my mental list of James' I know.

Readers, are you attached to your name brothers and sisters as I am? I must know if this is a bond all people with the same name share, or just James'. I think it's probably just us James'. We are, after all, incredibly unique.

Pet Fish

Fish have two uses in my opinion. One, they keep the ecosystem in oceans, lakes, and rivers in check. Two, they are rather yummy when cooked correctly. Outside of that, fish are completely useless. Yet, they are everywhere. In fact, you can pretty much tell if something is a commonplace household item if it appears in Wal-Mart. Well, guess what, Wal-Mart has its very own isle dedicated to fish tanks full of fish (most of which are dying, if not dead already).

Alright, maybe fish do have some use outside of being food and keeping the ecosystem balanced. They make semi-decent ornaments. For example, my parents once owned a beta fish, which just sat in a bowl in the middle of the table floating there and looking pretty. Occasionally, it would swim in a circle, but most of the time it was just there, being a fish, doing nothing.

What gets to me is this: Why do people buy fish as pets? This confuses me on so many levels that I don't really even know where to begin. I mean, for one, you can't pet your pet fish. You can try, but chances are good that the second you start stroking the thing you'll either pollute the water, stress it out, or damage a fin. No matter the build-up, the end result is always the same; the fish is boarding the one way flight to the toilet and off to fishy heaven. You can't walk a fish either. It just floats. That's all it does. You can't give it a bath, cause hell, the thing lives in water. You can't teach it to do tricks like play dead or roll over. You can't even get it to guard your house! How many criminals do you know who are afraid of guard-fish?

Though, I must admit, a guard fish would be rather cool... I suppose if people could buy sharks, fish would be far better pets. Granted, the shark wouldn't be very good at guarding your whole house unless you lived under water, but it could guard your bathtub or your swimming pool... If you got a small shark, you could even let it guard your sink or toilet!

I've changed my mind. Not all fish are useless pets, but until someone calls me up and says "Hey James, wanna come over and see my Great White Shark? He's guarding the pool!" I'm just not going to be a fan of people owning fish.

Amazing Future

For several years now I've kept a mental list of my top five dream jobs. Obviously, author is on there, and has been for as long as I can remember. The others, well, let's just say they are less likely. If you think about the odds for becoming an author, that says a lot. Still, I have kept the list all the same, and have altered it across the years as new information on the working world has been brought to my attention. One such alteration occurred this morning.

Dream Job number 4: Weather Predictor.

Wondering why? Well, wonder no longer, for I am about to explain it to you. See, this is no regular old meteorologist position. No no, not at all. See, this "Weather Predictor" is an actual weather predictor. See, I would be able to actually sense what weather was on its way. Somehow, my body would be able to sense changes in weather patterns, and I would be able to give 100% accurate forecasts of what the weather was going to do 10, 15, or 30 days before it actually happened. I wouldn't quite be a weather god, but I would certainly be the middle man between mother nature and the people.

The way I see it, there isn't a single weather station in the world that wouldn't want me to be under their wing. I could be taken in anywhere, live anywhere in the world, just because I can sense weather patterns to a flawless precision and accuracy. Not only would I be able to live anywhere, I'd also be rich, for doing nothing! I mean, if it's a natural talent, I wouldn't even really have to work. I could just call in the weather forecast from home, floating in my hand carved lagoon sipping fine wine from my diamond wineglass.

Jealous? Yea, thought you would be. Too bad I've already claimed it as my job. Stinks to be you, but hey, if you suck-up to me enough, I may just let you mooch off me.

My Amazing Dream

Last night, I had one of the best dreams I've ever had in my life. I want to share this with all of you because in the recent past, my dreams have been haunting me. Not last night. Last night was a dream so loaded with excitement, adrenaline, passion, and the fight for survival that I woke up shaking with joy. What made it better? When I woke up because I needed a drink of water (most likely because of all the imaginary running I was doing), the second I closed my eyes, I sank right back into this puppy! That never happens with good dreams! Here's how things went down.

The setup was in London, in an apartment that one of my fathers friends owned. For some reason, my family owned it now. Things were normal to begin with, and I believe we were eating dinner and talking as a family sometimes does. Then, out of nowhere, the building started shaking. Outside our window, we could hear things exploding, car alarms going off, people screaming. I immediately ran to the window and found the sky to be completely over overcast with clouds so dark that the sun could barely shine through. The world became similar to a night with no moon. Then, I saw it, the thing object that was setting the stage for the rest of my dream; an Alien battle ship so large, it covered the entire city of London.

Then they came. Beams of light shot down to the ground, and Aliens descended onto the planet. For those of you that have seen Alien the movie, the Aliens somewhat resembled them. They were larger, about twice the size of a human, and they stood up on their hind legs. They had a tail, which on the end had a blade so sharp it could cut through bone like butter. Their hands had enormous claws on them, and they could see in the dark better than the light. They were killing machines, and they were scouring the surface of London, possibly the world.

The door to our apartment flew open, and one came charging in at us. The family scattered, all of us in different directions. My brother and I headed for the stares, straight for our rooms. You see, we have an obsession with swords. Together, we own about nine or ten. So, up we went, followed by the sounds of an over sized beast smashing up our apartment. Both of us grabbed our weapons; mine just so happened to be a katana (which was a lot sharper in my dream than in real life).

I sprinted back out into the hallway to find Robert (my brother) already fighting off the Alien. Neither of us have much combat training outside of two months of fencing classes, and for some reason, the dream actually incorporated that. Robert fought well, but not well enough. The tail whipped around and grazed his cheek, slicing open his face. Immediately, I charged forward and jumped onto the Alien's back, thrusting my sword into its chest. The beast screamed, staggered, and fell to the ground dead.

This was when I woke up. I had my glass of water, and sank right back into the dream.

It was now six years later. Human kind had been fighting the war non stop, but we were losing. I was scarred badly, obviously having had many encounters with the Aliens over the years. We were somewhere underground, in a safe house. I was clad in full black armour which resembled Kevlar, but I can't be sure. I can tell you it didn't do much.

There were a large number of us protecting the bunker. A call came in on a radio, summoning the final defense to the inner defenses. That apparently was my group. My brother, me, and several others including my father sprinted from the room. We exited our underground sanctuary into a run-down building. Screams echoed across the crumbling halls, and as we cast around looking for the enemy, a wall shattered to the ground and at least fifteen of them came charging in at us. Together we fought, taking out as many as we can. I got into a one-on-one battle with one of the monsters, who threw his tail outwards and slashed open my armour, grazing my chest and causing blood to seep down my stomach. I staggered backwards, drew a short sword from my back, and hurled it at the monster's chest. It hit, and the Alien fell backwards in a pool of its own blood.

The fight continued, and eventually, all the monsters were eliminated. Not before we had lost half of our defenders, however. We had been hit hard, and many of the survivors were wounded. Together, we walked back to the underground bunker, where we sat in silence. Then, I woke.

What a fun dream it was! I sense a short story being born... I'm on it! (Don't worry, I promise I'll write it a lot better than I did this blog).