Never Never, So Always Always: Wait, What?

Never Never

Always always,

there are more words for always

than there are for



not ever begun,

not ever achieved,

not ever dreamed,

not ever done.

And forever,


is therefore consistently more


than never ever ever.

Never say never,

always, say “Ever!”


Think of the synonyms for that! Forever, eternally, perpetually, incessantly, unfailingly…on and on it goes. But then consider the synonyms of the following:


Well…give me a few minutes for that.


I’m still thinking…


Okay, fine, I give up. Are there any?

Not unless you count “Ne’er”, which is totally like the same word, y’know? I mean, ewhmahgawd, naoway!


What ways to say…say way?

*Koff koff koff ahem*

As I was saying, there are no synonyms for never. (If you want to count ne’er, go ahead and I’ll say “there are few synonyms”) There are several for always. Of course, since always is an antonym for never, then all the synonyms for always are the antonyms for never, and the antonym for never, always, has few antonyms, if you can get your head around that twisty snake-sentence.

That isn’t a snake sentence; a snake sentence is one that’s like that but makes less sense as it sentences soundly south and up all around the page and on and on in curvy back-and-forth reading like you do when reading most Western languages; then it’s a coiled up snake-like those that the Mayans had on their stone carvings; you could also call this a run-on, and you would be right, because this sentence isn’t quite snaky enough to be a snake-sentence.


And done.




Numbers and Questions


Why do kids always ask


Why do parents always say


Why don’t parents say

‘I don’t know’?

Why do the kids grow up like that?

Why can’t they admit

their ignorance?

Are they only proud or is it


How do you stop one of these

vicious cycles?

And how do you finally get

an answer?


in algebra

don’t you solve for variables in polynomials?

Why do you


but don’t search for a simplified


What is a real


What is

the only real number?

Why is

 the only real number


Why am I asking and answering

these questions?

Why am I so serious

about them?

Why am I still unanswered?

Why do I still not know

the answers to the unanswered?

Why can no question be answered

without another being asked?

Why can curiosity never be


Why must we

leave a question alone?

Why is there

never one completing answer that

argues and satisfies the question

and all its curiosity?

Why is

‘that’s the way it is’

not a satisfactory answer?

Because that’s

the way it is, because

we cannot always understand it.

A question unanswered is like a

variable without an identity.


but you can’t

solve it.

This interesting poem came from one prompt: “Question marks catch the reader’s attention more than exclamation marks. If you use a question, your statement becomes a question and the reader tries to answer that question before they move on. Write a poem using as many questions as possible…”

When I was solving polynomials and doing other such silly things that had to do with moving stupid variables around, I hated it. A variable stands for a number, but the number is unknown. In an equation, you solve for the variable and find its true identity. You can think of it as sort of a number in disguise and you have to hire a P.I. (you) to find out who/what/which it is.

Then let’s look at polynomials and linear equations. Okay, give me a break. We’re unable to actually simplify the variable because we don’t know what it is. You learn to toss them around and rearrange them backwards and forwards (multiply, then factor). But what’s the point? How do you use these in real life?

And what about linear equations. Those, too, make me irritated. The variable in a linear equation stands for any number that fits onto the equation’s graph. Confused? I know I am. Let’s take a trip back to middle school…

Each linear equation has a graph with little dots drawn on it. This line, like the graph of an inequality, shows all the solutions to the equation. Well, not all on one sheet of graph paper, but the line would if you had an infinitely sized piece of paper…which nobody does. The equation is a rule that tells the solutions. The dots stand for two numbers, like so: (x, y) The x-axis goes horizontal, the y-axis goes vertical. They’re coordinates, like latitude and longitude, only a little less confusing for people to understand.

Now, the variables in a linear equation are not meant to be answered. They are placeholders for any number on the equation’s graph.  Get ready for the most confusing part for my brain: there’s no one identity for the variable.






No, that’s wrong.

There is one identity for each variable.

Recall my post Infinite Identity: A Theory of Numbers. Go back and read the post if you can’t; the theory is too complicated to say in here. I’ll wait.

You back? Good.

Do you know what I’m going to say? You do? I’m going to say it anyway, just in case.

Since each number has an infinite amount of identities, each variable has that at more. In a polynomial, a variable could be any number. Thus it has an infinite number of identities, but each number that it can be also has an infinite number of identities! So, a polynomial or any equation containing unsolved variables has a variable with an infinitely infinite identity!

For this reason numbers are often weird.

And for this reason I don’t really like algebra anymore.


So Much Randmoness That You Will Rainbow Unicorns That Eat Cirrus Clouds

I’ve recently realized that the reason that I’m always procrastinating with my posts is because I try to think too carefully about what I’m saying to everybody.

Well, that issue is also what bogs down many National Novel Writing Month participants: they try to think too much about what they’re writing and not about the big idea (and even I suffer on that one, so don’t worry if you’re a repeating offender, fellow NaNoWriMos)

Once I finished my thought process on that, I decided to just write my posts with a free reign. One inspiring idea will now lead to a ridiculous but interesting post that you, my audience, will hopefully enjoy. Some of you came for the silliness, others came for poetry, but whichever you came for, thank you for doing so!

Anyway, you may find in future posts that there will be more delicious cupcakes popping in every now and again with luscious and pink half-melted frosting mounds (and sprinkles!) all over them (maybe, but not just cupcakes but also turtles with their shells painted to look like the aforementioned cupcakes) along with the main idea.

 Using the largest heading possible, PROGRESS TO THE NEXT TOPIC

(Insert a rainbow with winged unicorns eating cirrus clouds and excreting all the joy and happiness and color in the world YIPEEE!)

I like description. It adds the emphasis I want if I want it and doesn’t add it if I don’t want it at all which I know makes this a very long run-on sentence but it’s over now so don’t worry PERIOD. I also like the use of punctuation and conjunctions to make…wait for it…this: the exact tone and atmosphere that I wanted, the tone that sounds just how I would say it.  And that’s a reason I love reading, doing, and hearing slam poetry! So much emotion is poured into the words as the slam poet reads, so much more than could ever be achieved by simply publishing a poem in a book.

However, I do recognize the beauty of book-poems. There are possibilities for shaped poems, such as a snowman-shaped snowman poem, or other interesting shapes or ideas that only scripture can detail. Reading said snowman-shaped snowman poem will remove the charm of its being snowman-shaped, which is entirely the reason that you wrote it, right?

THAT SAID a slam poem, if written and published, looses the same amount of beauty in its entire essence as the snowman poem. The same thing goes for, say, a cartoon, be it a TV cartoon or a newspaper cartoon. Try ‘telling’ somebody a cartoon. “Well,” you might say, “That’s completely blasphemous! You can’t tell a cartoon!” Ex. Act. Ly. Each medium of conveying an idea must be left to its own media or it will lose much of its fun/awesomeness/education/vigor/WHAT MAKES IT BE WHAT IT IS, and that’s the conclusion of this little rant.


What was the original topic?

Oh, yeah.

Thanks for reminding me.

So, in the end of this very, very, very times infinity plus one which is still infinity random post, I give you my conclusion in a not-really word: I am going to try to post more frequently, and if you have any problem with randomness you should really duck and cover and prepare to make a stand. My posting day is going to be moved to Monday until further notice because Friday is just…not working out for me with my current schedule.

Happy Monday, and I’ll see you next rainbow unicorns cupcakes with pretty sprinkles on top!

–Aidyl 😀

National Poetry and Writing Month: Day 11

Today’s poem is “Nuclear Sludge”. Did you miss what I’ve just posted? Catch up on the poems here! Do you want to keep track of them? Subscribe at right!

In-ground outdoor spas gather a lot of junk, especially when not being used. Visiting my relative’s house today, their spa was an…interesting…yellow-green color, as if the dog had…”used” it. This is how I beheld that spa:

Nuclear Sludge

Stagnant in an in-ground spa,

not even leaves floating on the surface,

the few bugs and flies within feebly wiggling their last life away.

That neon green color,

unseen naturally in nature,

I swear it would glow at night!

Perhaps, if I fell in,

a single touch would bring my fate,

causing mutation at the barest contact.

“Oh I’m slipping I’m–!”

Neon green is not a natural color. Seriously, what natural thing have you ever seen that is that glowing, nuclear color? Neon green is the color of glow-sticks, for heaven’s sake! If you had seen that spa, you would have thought it was some sort of radioactive waste, too.

Thankfully for you, the challenge for today is not about disgusting things. (Some of you are sighing, “Aaaaaawww!” right now) No, I want you to write about something around your house that’s unusual very, very weird that you’ve never seen before. Perhaps there’s a yellow film (could be pollen, but hey, who knows?) over a pool in your patio. Perhaps there’s something else really odd. If you can’t find anything interesting enough, make something up! Perhaps the pot of soup that you forgot about for six hours has turned black…how would you describe it, and what would you think it was if you didn’t know?

Whatever it is, don’t shove me, or I’m going to–AUGH! I’m loosing balance over the sludge! Wait, grab my arm and haul me back! No, I’m falling, eep–!



National Poetry and Writing Month: Day 2

Today’s (or yesterday’s)poem: “Out of Bed”.

Sorry that I’m a little late posting day 2 when it’s obviously day 3, but I didn’t get to the computer yesterday. I’ll catch you later for day 3, hmmmm? Ahem, where was I? Oh yes, day 2!

Yesterday held so much inspiration: the way the sun shone, the amount of stars I saw at night, the sea, the smell of flowers…but this one was the one I chose.

Out of Bed

It’s 7:00.

I’ll be late if I don’t get up now.

But I can’t,

because I can’t

get up now!

I know it’s 7:10,

and I’ll be late if I don’t get up now,

but I can’t

because I can’t

get up now!

As the clock ticks 7:15,

I try to get up,

but it’s cold, and my bed is so warm!

I’m still a little tired,

and still a little cold,

so the arms of the bed surround me,

the warmth and comfort

a vortex to suck me in again,

to make me fall asleep when I don’t mean to,

to make me late especially when I don’t mean to!

So I leap across the room,

as far as I can,

and grasp onto the shelf o’er there.

And I’m out of the vortex’s

swirling grip, and I can finally get to work!

But the book on my nightstand,

that I was reading last night,

I read during breakfast,

as the clock ticks towards 8:00…

That’s my opinion as to why it’s so hard to get out of bed in the morning! And it’s odd, because if you get up and go away, you don’t really feel the urge to get back in bed, but if you do anyway, you can’t get out until 10:00, when it really feels like you ought to get out and can.

Here’s a little poetry mission I’m going to give you, reader, wherever on Earth you are, Czech Republic (Yes, I’ve had visitors from there) or America, I want you to find something that you find hard to do or hard to stop. Is it reading? Then explain to me how it feels, in words in any language (Including nerd or internet meme), to try to rip yourself away. What pulls you in? How do you describe it? Can you just not stop eating potato chips? What’s the psychology there? What do you keep thinking, but you just keep eating?

Enjoy the 3rd day of N.P.W.M., and I hope you enjoyed the second!