Why do we take things for granted?

The simplest answer to the above question is because we have to; it’s in our nature.

The recent events in Cyprus (for those reading this piece at a later time, I’m talking about the bailout crisis of March 2013) has caused a major uproar on the island, and in fact, the entire world. Locals are practically up in arms, as their very livelihood is at stake. Even as I write this, thousands of protestors flock the streets, angry at the politicians and other authorities that have caused this despondent turmoil. There is no work security as thousands lose their jobs, no guarantee on savings as their hard-earned cash is taken away by simple daylight robbery, and no access to capital will result in hundreds of small businesses shutting down and/or filing for bankruptcy. The prospects look bleak and the current generation need to work harder than ever to regain some inkling of stability for their children to have a decent future in.

I’m not going to go into the economic reasons behind the collapse, or the financial consequences and measures that need to be taken. I will leave that to the technocrats and other professionals that have the knowledge and expertise on how to fix a broken country. What I really wanted to explore is a psychological effect pertaining to such times and why it is allowed to thrive until such critical sparks make us aware of it. I am talking of course about why we take things for granted. With these jarring events comes the sudden and frighteningly real possibility that our everyday life, from the money coming into our bank account every month to the roof over our heads, can be taken away from us by the mere whims of higher powers, whatever they may be. The safe world we once knew and assumed to always be there to care for us is no more. That really puts things into perspective. Will we have food on the table for our next meal? Can I walk safely in the streets in the middle of the night? Our very basic needs are at stake here.

I know, I may be going overboard with this soapy melodrama, but these vital concerns are certainly passing through many people’s minds the last couple of weeks as they worry over their future and their children’s futures. We are a spoilt generation, I cannot deny that. Until the crisis pounced, many of us just took it for granted that our next meal, our next pay check, even our houses, would be there day in and day out for an indefinite period of time.  Now that these might be taken away from us, we are probably looking at them in a whole different light. We can perhaps appreciate them more, hopefully for long enough to change the way we view them forever; perceive them in the way our parents and their parents saw them, which is why they toiled long and hard with their blood and sweat to make sure we were left a decent legacy to place our feet on.

So why do we take such basic human needs for granted? One reason that is blatantly obvious is the materialistic driven society that we have created for ourselves. We are surrounded by a manifested culture that focuses on greed and jealously. We can feel it when our neighbour shows off that new car, or our colleague proudly displays that latest gadget. Society taught us to want, instead of to need. We don’t really need that latest smart phone do we? But we certainly do want it. These wants have superseded our most basic human needs as the targets to achieve in our comfortable nine to five lifestyle, where we worry more about what to wear that day to work than where we will find our next meal.

We kind of dug our own graves on this one. We asked for safety and security. We wanted a steady income and a dependable future and a white picket fence. We didn’t want to hunt our food anymore and have to build a shelter from the rain every night. We wanted to sleep whole-heartedly knowing that we weren’t going to be awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of leopards nibbling on our ankles. These are reasonable aspirations and we worked hard (more or less) in building a civilisation that would achieve these goals. What we may not have realized is that this sensation of wellbeing comes at a hefty price. As we slowly build our walls around our homes, keeping the leopards out, we forget other dangers, mainly the ones we cannot control. The more complicated we build our house of cards, the more likely it will fall from the lightest touch of unforeseen circumstances. But we are oblivious to this, and we continue our daily lifestyle knowing that the leopard is thwarted behind that wall. That oblivion, that illusion of safety is what desensitises us to the possibility that our cards can come crashing down upon us any minute.

We immerse ourselves in repetitive routines, incessant habits, and insubstantial rules that form the cornerstone of our livelihoods. But at any given moment they can disappear, whether by an act of God or by the self-destructive tools of our own making. We cannot really be entirely to blame for this cycle. It is after all in our nature to want to feel safe, so we will endeavour to accomplish this objective as best as we can, using whatever means necessary. The problem is that the means became too vast, as we have connected ourselves on a global scale through technological achievement to the point that if anything’s going to be done, it will be done big. And the bigger they are...

So far I have been speaking of taking our very basic human needs for granted. But on the other side of the spectrum, we also seem to be ignoring the ‘smaller’ things around us (I should say less significant but they aren’t really). Most of us go about our daily routine searching for meaning, unaware that it is all around us, ready to be plucked and enjoyed freely for anyone who cares to truly appreciate it. The beauty of nature is a prime example; one who stops to contemplate on the vastness of what nature has achieved in its lifetime will find themselves immersed in a world of infinite wonders. Yet we mostly block it out from our view, knowing it is there but not really...knowing.

If we search inwards, in our own selves, we would also be amazed by the intricacies we could find. Ever since our distant ancestors decided to stand upright on two legs, we have expanded our mental borders and evolved the ability to be self-aware; from a young age we are able to question our motives, to imagine a world beyond ours, to create art out of nothing. Yet I feel as we grow older, we mostly squander this ability, allowing it to lie dormant as we mechanically go about our daily routines so we can just get by.

Having four working limbs, friends that care, using electricity, the list is endless. These are available for us to be grateful for any time we want, but we choose to ignore them as given perks that will be with us forever. That is until one day they suddenly disappear, at which point we realize how much they are truly missed, usually too late for wear. Why do we set ourselves up for this failure?

The modern age has brought about a phenomenon that facilitates in taking these ‘everyday’ things for granted; that is our constantly diminishing attention span. We are bombarded from all directions by advertisements, events, and people that are constantly vying for our attention. We have become unable to focus on the same task for too long before we are interrupted and our concentration required elsewhere. This has become imbued in our nature to such an extent that it happens without us realizing anymore. We can only read a few pages before our mind wanders, or watch a video online for only a few minutes before we get bored and move on. We try to cram so many entries into our daily agenda that we are unable to appreciate something for too long anymore, because our mind is always racing for the next item on the list. Let’s face it; because of this our attention span has been slowly declining over the years, it is on an all time new low, and it is directly tied to this current trend of taking things for granted.

We also seem to have a defence mechanism in place that protects us from this minute scale appreciation of all things. If you were to suddenly become fully aware of every little object and concept around you, then you must be on drugs. There’s a reason why we cannot exist in this state permanently; we would burn out in a very short while, overloaded by the constant bombardment of information on our senses. However, even though we can turn this defence mechanism on and off whenever we want, we have instead allowed it to take over completely, turning us into organisms more akin to mechanical robots than living beings with beating hearts.

Our very nature thus causes us to take things for granted. But it is a nature warped from a twisted world of our own creation, moulded from abnormal beliefs instilled into our minds like an infestation of locusts over a once beautiful field of healthy crops. They eat away at our priorities, our values, until we are left as decomposed parodies of our true potential, only able to stare hopelessly at barren fields of decay once the locusts depart, knowing it just may be too late to salvage that lost harvest. And thus we pass through the fields of our lives gazing always into the horizon, never once stopping to smell the roses and feel the grass upon our bare feet. Only when a disaster ensues do we halt our progress, question our selves, and make the true choices that separate us from Beasts, from Gods.

Got Personality?

If I ever find that lousy rotten scoundrel that coined the phrase:  ‘Just be yourself’, I’m going to wring his bloody neck. If that’s not enough to end his miserable life, I’m going to trample his sorry hide into chunky cat-food with my best pair of spiky boots and feed his remains to my feisty felines. On second thoughts, my felines are too good for that. Better toss the remnants in the garbage disposal and hit play while I chuckle maniacally.

Short of sounding like a serial psychopath, I better explain why I’m hate-mongering on this phrase and its ‘creator’ before the men in white jackets come to take me away. I know it’s hard to pinpoint the exact origin of the phrase, but for the simple purpose of directing my rage filled anger onto it, I have chosen to believe it was a smelly grotesque man that created it. This…thing that passes as a human being… just by coming up with this phrase, has completely and utterly obliterated the self esteem of millions of susceptible people worldwide (that’s practically personality-cide if you ask me. He should be tried for war crimes and hung by his toes under a spiky pit of starving, light sabre wielding piranhas). Without self-esteem you might as well chuck out the rest of the character. What empty shells that remains of the souls can be sown together into fashionable new-age necklaces for free spirits to wear (ironically), for they have no other use anymore.

Let me elaborate. First of all, if we are to always just be ourselves then technically we should pass through life with the qualities of either a gibbering drooling toddler, or a squirming ovum-seeking tadpole, depending on what school of thought you choose to believe in. Babies don’t have a real personality you may ask? So when do we develop a personality? Some say pre-puberty, others say during, while others even hint at adolescence. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is this sorry excuse of a phrase was created, and then swiftly repeated worldwide as the number one social advice ever given because it’s easier than having to think of a real solution.  One global chain-reaction later and we have millions brainwashed into thinking that they must just be themselves whenever they want to make an impression, whether they’re on a date, in an interview, or making new friends. Failure to comply with social standards results in a crumbled confidence, self–judgment, guilt, etc. Of course the feelgood Hollywood movies stressing this pseudo-ideaology as the primary moral of many of their plots doesn’t help either. Basically, the consequence of all this is people are now afraid of how other people will judge them if they suddenly changed their personality. If they act differently than how they are expected to, others will say “Oh he’s just pretending to be like that,” or, “Oh she’s just going through a phase.” These judgments are the cause of why people are afraid to change their personality or behave differently to how they normally would in certain situations.

A friend once told me: you judge yourself by how you think people see you, i.e., through other people’s eyes your character is shaped via your perception of what you think they see in you. Therefore just based on that, your character is in a constantly changing state. Every time you meet someone new, a piece of that person stays with you, to modify your character in some way; Every time you go through a significant experience, parts of it stick with you, moulding you into a new form, complete with memories and a fresh outlook on life.

On further inspection, the mystery deepens even further. On the surface it appears that a human has only one personality. But in reality, it is composed of a multitude of characters, a set of files stored in a mental cabinet, some almost identical, others totally different from one another. You have a ‘record’, ready to be pulled out, for each and every person in your life, and each and every significant event in your life. Not only that, you also have a set for every combination of people you are with, plus every combination of people and events...and the list goes on. So if you are with your best friend, you pull out the character called ‘with best friend’ and activate it. If you are with another friend at the same time, you have a separate file for that. If you are with your friends on holiday...yet another file. The point being made here, which I’m sure you’ve noticed at one time or the other, is that you are never truly the same person when you are with different people.  You can’t be because you and your friend adapted your personalities around each other from the moment you met. You created a blank new file and started mentally writing into it as you bonded. Not only that, but all your files are constantly going through automatic updates as time passes (spoken like a true I.T. technician).  So trying to be yourself all the time just to please society is impossible. Instead, why not accept the fact that you can choose to be a different person whenever you want to. Existing as the same person is dull, tedious, and a demolisher of self esteem and confidence. It’s as if you’re creating all your character records to be near identical with a copy/paste function for life. Where’s the fun in that?

Some would argue that being yourself means staying true to your base character. It means not listening to the pressures of conformity and the strain of others demanding that you’re not good enough the way you are. There is a good point to be had here, but it has been warped behind its true meaning. It doesn’t mean that you should stay as you are no matter what peer pressure and bad advice whispers in your ear. It means if you want to change something about yourself, do it for your own reasons and not for others. If you recognize a flaw in your character that you want altered, then by all means do so, but do so for the right cause. If someone is quiet and hides in the shadows, then how does she expect to meet new people, make friends, go out on dates? If someone only hangs out with his male friends all day, lives like a slob and acts like a brute, and then complains about his non-existent love-life, who should he blame? Should these people continue to just be themselves? Should they continue the way they are, forever failing at their goals and wasting their life, just because some lazy person gave them the lazy advice that they are beautiful the way they are and shouldn’t let others change them? Don’t expect the rest of the world to shape itself around you while you sit on the couch and moan about how it doesn’t like you. If you want to accomplish anything on this planet, you have to adapt around its rules and make them work in your favour.

But I still believe somewhat in this base character (the infamous be yourself character). It does exist, but it should be the one activated when you are by yourself, with no one’s judgment to inhibit or interfere with your mind except for your own. Instead of toiling on a daily basis in order to proudly display this true character for the entire world to see, why not keep this one to yourself, to do with what you wish. All humans should be entitled to at least one personality to play with without having the nuisance of a flock of rolling eyes and clicking tongues criticizing their every action. There is no guilt for keeping this personality private, contrary to what people tell you.

Let us recognize the fact that we have within us a wide assortment of personalities that we can tap into at any time. We don’t even have to try very hard. We just shouldn’t slam the door at our potential when it visits our doorstep, just because we are afraid of what others would say about us. It may seem like hard work to actually change but it’s really our own resistance that’s setting up all the mental blockades. If we accept that and dissolve the resistance, the way becomes clear.

It was Rita Mae Brown who said: “I think the reward for conformity is that everyone likes you except yourself.” Right! Has anybody seen a filthy no-good phrase-coining scumbag? I have a score to settle with him!

Theories of Reincarnation

I was watching my baby nephew learning the other day and it got me thinking about the concept of reincarnation and the details of its consequences. If it were true, how would we explain it in terms of hidden memories of our past lives and unlocking them via techniques like hypnosis?

Say hypothetically you do come back in the next life as a newborn baby. Although the neurons of a baby’s brain can theoretically still hold all the memories it had in its past life, can you imagine a baby trying to comprehend and retain all that information. It would be forgotten and lost in a matter of minutes. But what if instead, it’s stored somewhere deep in the recesses of our minds, not completely disappeared but hidden, ready to be tapped into when needed by those mysterious forces that encompass the subconscious ether.

In addition, the physical capabilities of babies are very limited in their early days. By the end of their first year they are barely cooing out basic words like mama and papa. Even if they want to talk, they don’t know how to yet. The muscles of infants are also not developed, so even if they want to walk, they can’t. Basically we would have to learn all over again how to walk and talk each time we would be born. So there is a rational explanation if this theory were true. Perhaps we are reincarnated as babies with our consciousness, our memories and abilities intact, but we cannot use any of them yet during our early years, so they disappear, replaced by new ones.

This also touches on the discipline of past life regression. This technique uses hypnosis to help people tap into memories of their past lives, giving them visions of their previous incarnations, and even granting them skills and knowledge they didn’t have in their current lifetime. There are ample cases of these experiments that resulted in the test subjects suddenly speaking in another language (even dead ones!), or playing the piano perfectly when they could barely keep a tune. We could hypothesize that the memories of previous lives were thrown into the subconscious mind because it’s too much to handle as babies, and they are later tapped into via hypnosis, a medium for awakening hidden parts of our psyche.

A question now pops up; if this form of reincarnation is true, what if we are born fully developed in body and mind? Will we be able to retain all our memories and talents, everything that happened in our last life, and use them in our new one?

I have heard of a less supernatural explanation of almost exactly the same theory. So far I spoke of reincarnation which requires the help of the divine or at least a power beyond us, while this other notion is based on DNA, which would make it more acceptable in this day and age. Of course decades ago both theories would have been shunned. 

The theory says that since every human has approximately the same life span then it would be very difficult if not impossible to advance as a species if every newborn baby has to start learning everything from scratch. So every baby has all the memories, skills, etc., that its forefathers ever developed stored in its own DNA. If I develop my skills for playing ping pong, then my children will take much less time to become good at it, hence giving them time to surpass my level, a trait that they will in turn transfer to their children. We can say the same thing with memory. Say that at the age of thirty I decided to move to England and start a family. Flash forward twenty years later, and my child all grown up, comes to Cyprus for the first time. It’s very likely that some scenes will look familiar to him/her, because they are stored geographically in our DNA. Of course in twenty years time so many things will have changed in Cyprus that it wouldn’t be as apparent as recalling a crystal clear memory. It would manifest itself more as a feeling of déjà vu or a vision of a picture you may have seen a long time ago.

I prefer the latter theory. It’s more realistic and probable because it conforms to nature and evolution, and it also could shed some light on the phenomena of déjà vu and other seemingly supernatural visions. Both are plausible in the mysteries of life, and the comprehension that they would mean we are virtually immortal is mind-boggling to say the least. Perhaps they have to limit their potential by giving us doses of this power over many generations. Can you imagine what would happen to us if we suddenly retained the memories and skills of all our forefathers from the beginning of time? In our current state we would be overwhelmed with the barrage of information, lose our minds and melt away in its insanity. But if you compare the amount of information we can now retain compared to our primeval ancestors, we can say we have already evolved in leaps and bounds. It is thus not too farfetched to envisage humanity many years from now with a brain transformed into an accessible super computer, able to hold copious volumes of memory and master intricate abilities with the ease of turning on a light switch. Perhaps then, with the past transgressions of our ancestors clearly formed in our minds, we could learn from the grievous mistakes of our troubled history and develop ourselves into a human race worthy of inheriting the Earth we so take for granted.

The Many Mes

 I have this friend called Mes, and he’s the most energetic person I know. He never tires, and seems to have time for all his day-to-day activities. College, work, going out with friends, his girlfriend, family outings, hobbies, sports, working out…the list is endless! He never complains, never breaks down, it looks like he never sleeps! He is the complete opposite of me, and I’m completely jealous of him. So jealous in fact, that I demanded to be let in on his secret, no matter how freaky it may be, so he says. I needed what he was having, because I never had time for anything. At first he refused, but if its one thing I’m good at, it’s insisting. After much pleading and begging, he finally caved, and consented in letting me into his shadowy world.

Mes’ house was a mess. It holds the appearance of a recent human-tornado-party going through it. Food wrappings littered the floor. Unwashed dishes piled the sink, and a thick layer of dirt covered the windows. “What happened here?” I asked him.

“Nothing,” was his only reply.

“You mean, it’s like this every day”.

“You’ll see,” he said smirking as he led me through the back and down the stairs into the basement. There, at the end of the dark narrow corridor, lay a single huge oak door, reminding me off those eerie mad-scientist movies. As if to confirm my thoughts, it creaked heavily as he slowly opened it and bade me enter. Warily, I stepped in, unsure of what I was to see.

At first I held no expression, as dumb as a doornail I stood there and stared with half-closed eyes, not convinced of the sight before me. It would have been less shocking to view the monsters that haunted my childhood, the kind that wets your eyes and wets your bed. Yet I just stood there, unblinking.

The room was quite large, spanning the whole of the house and more, yet it was so cramped. It was littered with all sorts, from furniture and library shelves to file cabinets and electrical equipment. It was lit by a multitude of fluorescent lamps, patterned randomly across the roof, giving it a sort of bright-white laboratory appearance. The real clincher though, the sight that shocked me, was the fact that there were a number of people in there, all in the exact shape and form of Mes, down to the last hair! Each was busy at some task or the other, and paid not the least attention to me, as if they were expecting me.

Mes (the original one, I think), took me by the arm and led me deeper into the room, shutting the oak door behind him with a bang. The sudden noise awoke me from my hypnotized trance and I stared wildly around, unable to grasp this new information all at once. Mes awaited no prompting from me, and began his tale.

“I was suffering just like you in the older days; No time for work, play, whatever. I felt suffocated and overloaded; a drop of a pin would break me. As I lay one night, contemplating giving it all up and starting fresh, a revelation hit me. I need to create copies. With more of me, I could split my workload and have time for things I always wanted to do. So that night I dreamt of another me, one that enjoys work unconditionally, and the next day there he is, lying beside me. Don’t ask me how he came to be, I prefer to see it as a miracle and leave it at that. This Mes-2 goes to my office job by day, and then to my graveyard shift by night. He cares little for anything else, and loves to work! He’s perfect. He isn’t here right now because he’s working. That’s all he does! “

“Now for a while I was content to avoid work, and could have left it at that. But then I thought, wouldn’t it be wonderful if I had a third Mes to go to college for me. And thus, lo and behold a third me the next morning! Mes-3 takes ten courses a semester. He loves studying and learning new things. He’s almost a machine. There he is, the one crouched at that desk with all the books, he has five midterms next week to study for.” As if on cue, Mes-3 glanced up for a second with a quick wave, then dived back into his avalanche of education.

I found the composure to finally say a few words. “Don’t you, I mean them, ever get tired. And why have Mes-3 studying when ultimately you won’t learn anything.”

           

“I thought you might ask that, very perceptive of you,” he replied merrily. “See, I would never have made Mes-3 if I didn’t know about my connection with Mes-2. Everything Mes-2 sees, hears, feels, whatever, so do I. You remember the ‘Borg” in Star Trek; The alien race that had a single universal mind. Well it’s the same thing with me and all of…me. I have this connection with all of them, as they do with each other. One mind. I know what you’re thinking, that it sounds like an overload, but it’s not as bad as you think. Humans use very little of their brain…so...well…my brain adapted to this…situation. The rest of the brain is being used for all this extra processing. It’s like watching many television sets at the same time and understanding them all. That way, we all share the same experiences, the same feelings, as if we’re still one and the same. Conveniently, this meant the creation of Mes-4, to do one thing, and one thing only. Sleep! For all his lifetime he sleeps for the rest of us, occasionally getting up to eat and erm…relieve bodily functions.” Following the pointing finger of Mes I spotted a large king-size bed in a corner, with a single blanketed figure curled up on it, sleeping soundly. “He sleeps like a baby, nothing short of an earthquake would wake him.”

We made our way across the left wall, where there was standing yet another Mes, peering intensely at a photo. “Who’s he?” I asked. “I mean…what does he do?” I corrected my mistake.

“That’s Mes-6. He’s a bit on the soft-side if you ask me. You see, even with my jobs and my college studies out of the way, I still had another problem. My friends complained that I spent too much time with my girlfriend, and my girlfriend complained that I spend too much time with my friends. Naturally, I took a giant leap and created Mes-5 and Mes-6. Right now, Mes-5 is snow-boarding with my friends in the Alps, a much needed holiday. Great fun. Mes-6 here is seeking inspiration for his latest love-poem, by gazing intensely into my girlfriend’s photo. He spends every waking moment thinking of her and only her. The perfect boyfriend, catering to her every need and satisfaction. Off course he also makes sure he doesn’t smother her, and that no other man steals her away from him. A bit of a psycho if you ask me.” Mes-6 smiled at this comment, for he knew it was to be said before it even left Mes-1 s’ mouth. There are no hard feelings between them though. How could you harbor hard feelings from your own insults?

“Inspiration is a funny thing,” Mes-1 continued. “It comes and goes and is never there when you need it. I have all these ideas I want to place in reality, yet I never found the inspiration convenient. It’s always put off for another time. I considered, what the hell, and made two more Mes. Mes-7 is sitting there on the computer. He is the creator of words, a beauty unappeased in this world. His creativity spans the written art, from literature to languages to poetry. If he’s not reading some poem or another by Poe or Blake, he’s scribing one of his own. He’s got four books under his belt so far, and many more to come. Mes-8 is also the creative artist, but in all things beyond words. Painting, crafting, sculpting, you name it. Such a peaceful hobby he has. I envy him sometimes…” Mes-1 said jokingly. We stood for a while behind Mes-8, peering at his latest work, a miniature Roman chariot, fixed to the last detail with artistic fervor. Whatever their tasks, the Mes-clones seemed to enjoy it heartily, as if they were created for that reason and that reason only. There is no monotony when all their minds are linked together.

“I hatched Mes-9 to care for family functions. He’s out at the moment, on some picnic with my uncles bunch. He spends quality time with my parents, goes on outings with relatives, plays with my nieces and nephews, and even remembers all their birthdays. He’s especially busy during the holidays. Can you envision all those gifts and cards to send? I don’t envy him! That’s for sure. Yet he takes pleasure in it, it’s his life’s work so to say.”

“And there you have it, nine mes if you include me, one for this and one for that, a marvel to perceive I am sure, yet as ideal for the ideal life, the one, one sees only in dreams.” he concluded poetically, parking himself comfortably in the middle of an outsized couch, a large grin on his face as he awaited my long overdue reaction to his wondrous wonders.

After such a lengthy and tiresome tale I had but one thing to ask.

“So what do you do?”

Following which his great grin vanished and he replied crossly,

“What do you think I do?! I clean up after my Mes !!!” 

A Call at the Cafeteria, A Birriboo Adventure

I go by the name of Birriboo the squirrel. My domus lies in the woodland realms, within the heart of Mount Filani, one of the many ranges in the island of Cyprus. Like many of the other forest animals, I study under the tutelage of Simoon the owl, the wisest and most revered of all the beasts of Filani. He took me under his wing and taught me all about the different species of the world, from the lowly but hard-working ant to the majesty of the whales in oceans far away. Of all the animals of the kingdom, the ones that confuse me the most are human beings. Simoon had placed me in charge of cataloguing their activities on the island of Cyprus, so as we can better understand their complex mating rituals, habitual customs, and natural behaviours, and this was an arduous task indeed. They are not simple animals like us forest creatures; they choose to complicate even their most simplest of practices with rules, norms and other frivolities that make no sense to us straightforward creatures of mother earth.

These duties usually require of me to monitor the activities of certain barbarian males of the genus humanus, who annually gather in the Filani grove for their savage rituals and games. These include eating, drinking of the magic elixir they call alcohol, and dancing amongst other more outrageous practices too unnerving to mention here. But their practices are simple and straightforward and theirs is another story. It seems I have wandered off the telling of this one.

It all begins with an angry owl waving a tattered tree-bark record in the faces of his students, cursing us for our pathetic idleness. The record holds the entries of the Cyprius Humana. The cause of his hooting temper is due to the last entry being over 100 years old! Woe is me! For he has pointed his ruffled feathers at me, declaring that I must renew the outdated record with a report of the species of modern times! I tried to scurry away silently, hoping the ominous task would be instead given to another unfortunate such as Harry the Weasel, but I was not to be so lucky. The owl’s sharp eyes spotted my failed attempt at escape, and I suffered a verbal abusing that I haven’t endured since Herbert the Hyena came to visit.

  

Herein follows Birriboo’s account of the Cyprius Humana in the habitat of a Cafeteria...

Complete with quill, ink and parchment, I trudged down the mountain into the hub of civilization in search of fine samples to study. It was not long before I found a ‘Cafeteria’, where a host of humans were collected all together and chatting amongst one another akin to a flock of flamingos I once saw. I’ve heard of these ‘cafeterias’ before, social gatherings where eating and drinking takes place freely, with hardly any of that fighting-for-morsels attitude that separates them from us animals. Oh how marvellously civilized the humans have become! I spied a group of females segregated from the rest of the clan and set about recording their appearance and behaviour...

The first item of interest that I took note of, me being a squirrel and all, was the selection of footwear they chose to wear. The tip, the heel, or both were elongated and sharp enough to be used as a deadly weapon. Did the females need them to fend of merciless predators and over eager suitors, or is this a tool of convenience used to drill holes in trees for grubs and pick out tasty cockroaches hiding in corners? They certainly did not look comfortable enough to walk in, as I heard from others is the whole purpose of shoes in the first place. I cringed at the thought of trying to cram my dainty little squirrel feet into what plainly looked like a cruel torture device, and moved on with my observations.

My sight veered towards their arms, and I nearly dropped my ink in astonishment. Each hand now sported some form of unnatural extension, as if evolution took a turn for the worse on these poor unfortunates. The end of one hand possessed a minute but bright screen that they continuously stared into and numerous labelled buttons which they punched with their thumbs at such alarmingly super human speed that I thought perhaps they were being fuelled by some exterior adrenalin sac. They even appeared to accomplish this task while performing other activities at the same time. After being entranced by this repetitive act, which was occurring every few moments, I have come to the conclusion that they have developed some sort of telepathic-neuron-connection to this device, such that they will not be able to function without it and it without them.

Their other hand had also evolved, growing a container-like vessel that they seem to use for drinking this brownish liquid out of. I managed to overhear some of the other creatures talking of this life-giving drink. They call it ‘coffee’ and it is now required for humans to function biologically. Once they awaken in the morning of each day, they cannot act within their full capacity until they have consumed vast quantities of this concoction. This intake they repeat at various intervals during the day, leading me to believe that coffee will eventually replace water in the future as the giver of life for this race. I pondered on whether they had also adjusted their watering holes to contain coffee. I made a note to look for one later on.

After a moment of perplexity and bad angles, (I am a squirrel after all), I realized they were merely holding onto these devices, and had in fact not grown or grafted them into their hands. They held on to them and protected them so dearly that I initially thought they were permanent fixtures of their bodies. Silly squirrel indeed!

On conducting a quick scan of the females around the area, I found remarkably that some of them had their hair dyed with various colours and shades. All manners of red, blue, green and other tones were apparent in abundance. I could not for the life of me comprehend how this will help them survive in the wild. They have painted themselves an easy target to every hungry predator in the vicinity, and I shifted my eyes warily, fearing one to be nearby from all this easy prey. I pondered upon whether it was some form of practice for attracting the males, as I noticed some of them also furnished colourful hair, akin to the colourful and exotic feathers of the birds of paradise. My final conclusion was that the females require some form of identification amongst one another for establishing status and hierarchy rights within each of their clans, so that they each know their place amongst the other females.

The greatest of all changes that I hesitantly scribe since the last log 100 years ago is of the increasingly complex mating rituals undertaken by the males and females in attracting the opposite gender of their species. It seems that the eyes of human beings are perpetually on the lookout for a suitable partner, and all potential mates within line of sight are immediately scrutinized and filtered out under their expert-like surveillance. Those who are deemed of weak character, poor status, or possessing shoddy mounts are eliminated from their list, until a select few are judged acceptable to mate with. From the female’s side, the chosen males are leered at until their attention is begotten, from which point the female would partake in certain flirtatious acts, such as hair flipping, fake laughter and looking away if eye contact is established. The chosen one may or may not approach the female, depending on his prowess and bravery. If he does dare, and here is where the complexity begins, the female will swiftly feign disinterest, rolling her eyes and shattering his confidence with a wave of her hand. The male may then, if he is stubborn and patient enough, court the female until she gives in. Who knows how long that actually takes, im certainly not planning to stick around and find out.This is a mere generalization of the process of course, the truth being that the intricacy of the complex network of habits, rituals and customs involved within the courting rights are enough to make my head spin, me being a squirrel and all.

There are countless more entries that need inscribing, from the human dieting habits to choice of clothing, but sadly I have run out of parchment and patience, which is my signal for returning to mount Filani. Hopefully, the owl is happy with my account of the Cyprius Humana, as I write only what I see, and not what I understand on why they have evolved in such a manner, me being a squirrel and all…

A visit to a nightclub, a Birriboo adventure

“BIRRIBOO! COME OVER HERE THIS INSTANT!” Simoon the owl screeched furiously. He was fuming to such an extent that his feathers were in danger of being ruffled and Birriboo could swear he saw smoke wafting out of his hot ears. The other Filani forest creatures scattered left and right, fleeing from his wrath. All except for one that is, a furry little brown squirrel all alone in the centre of the grove, whimpering in fear as it looked on with round glistening eyes at the oncoming owl. It was Birriboo the squirrel, and at that moment he was shaking in his furry little boots. Simoon stormed over to the quivering animal and slammed a thick folder at his feet. Empty parchments flew out and littered the forest floor. Birriboo squealed and jumped twice his height in the air from the shock of the impact.

           

“AND WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS?!” Simoon proclaimed sternly, his wings on his hips in his best ‘angry father stance’. Birriboo carefully looked down at the scattered blank parchments. The green-leaf folder they were half protruding from was labeled Cyprius Humana, Latin for Cypriot Human race. Birriboo slowly looked up, putting on his most adorable expression ever with his irresistibly large round eyes blinking innocently. “it’s the…cypri…cypri..,” he stuttered with his squeaky voice, trying desperately to get the words out.

Simoon callously interrupted him. “Its supposed to be our records for the Cypriot human race, but what I see is some pathetic attempt by a lazy no-good hairy weasel in avoiding his duties.” At this point Harry the Weasel pricked up his ears from where he was hiding with the other animals and thought of intervening at this affronting insult upon his good nature, but decided against it for now, on account of the steaming owl’s lack of good judgment at the current moment.

Simoon continued his tirade. “All you have are two pages of the accounts of humans on this island. TWO PAGES! Birriboo, you listen to me now, you listen very well indeed. You will leave the Filani grove, TONIGHT, and bring me back at least twice as much as before, YOU HEAR ME!” Birriboo jumped again at the owl’s last proclamation, his fur standing on end with fright.

“But…but sir…Mr. Simoon great Owl sir,” Birriboo barely managed to whisper his objection. “it’s winter sir, it’s freezing cold at night.” In response, Simoon gave him a look that assumed if he didn’t leave right now, he would turn him into a pretty little brown hat. Birriboo, knowing when to concede defeat and shut his yap, scuttled away as fast as he could, pausing only to grab his thickest coat, his trusty walking stick, and plenty of parchment and ink for the scribing to come.

Herein follows Birriboo’s account of the Cyprius Humana in the habitat of a night club...

After much searching in the streets of the capital town, I managed to find a spot of congregation called ‘a nightclub’ by the locals, where the healthy males and females of the island gather late at night for dancing and other festivities. I was forced to wait till after midnight before the droves finally arrived, making me wonder if perhaps humans share the same night-prowling genes as cats or owls. They must sleep all day and only wander out to hunt at night. Here I was, waiting in a freezing dark corner from sundown; vainly trying to keep my paws warm, when hours later the droves of humans finally showed up outside the club. How unconventional of them to meet so late like that. Undaunted, I continued in my observations.

The first thing I took note of was their clothing. The females barely had anything on, with far too much skin exposed to the cold night air. “This can’t be their winter coats,” I thought to myself. I mean I wouldn’t know, me being a squirrel and all, but I could logically assume that like all other animals, this race must find ways to keep themselves warm in the winter. Thinking of the humans that frequently visit Filani during the cold winter months, I recalled that they always wore extra hides, one layered over the other, in order to hold back the cold. These particular females however, looked like they suffered needlessly. Perhaps the poor creatures did not have any other clothes, I thought to myself as I tried to find an answer. And then it hit me...this is a test of will! The females are demonstrating to the male specimens around them, that by braving the chill, they are physically strong and healthy, able to stay the cold with the sheer force of their willpower. Hence they prove they are fit enough for partnership and to bear children. What a remarkable and amusing ritual this is. It is very rare indeed to see the female of the species initiating the mating rites, perhaps the humans have adapted in this sense as well.

Of course the males weren’t any less peculiar with their choice of clothing. Their attire was either all black or all white, which I found very perplexing at first. After much contemplation, I have come to the conclusion that once in the nightclub, the men will be separated into two tribes, according to what they wear. The tribes should then partake in those dance rites, competing against each other for the hands of the females. What a wonderful little game they played. I couldn’t wait to go in and witness it with my own eyes.

           

“Why weren’t they going in,” I pondered innocently to myself after much delay. They were just standing there at the entrance, the whole pack of them shifting nervously amongst each other like bored sheep. They must be waiting for something, like a horn of the calling, or some other signal of summoning. They remained in that state for an hour, and just when I was thinking to give up and trudge back home, there was some commotion at the front of the queue. Clawing my way up the side of a nearby building for a better view, I could see that someone had come out of the club entrance. It was a male, and a very large one at that. He was very muscular, and his jaw protruded from his face like a park bench. He looked like a Kodiak bear someone had succeeded in partially shaving and proceeded to somehow stuff into the skin of an animal half its size. The bear-man stood in front of the crowd of eager onlookers with a mean look about him, as if he could crush any one of them with merely his pinky finger. Scanning the swarm of pitiful humans, he nodded at some and let them come forward. They scurried past him hurriedly, as if afraid he might suddenly change his mind, and with a sigh of relief they entered the nightclub. Now I get it! This is the Alpha Male, the Grand King, the lord of the Tribe. In order to be accepted into the society of the club, the crowd must first be accepted by this Alpha Male. How could I have not realized this before? It all makes perfect sense now. If they receive his grandness’s approval, then they are deemed worthy of entering and becoming part of the club. What a beautifully intricate culture these humans have. With all the stories I heard of their evolution, and me being the squirrel and all, I had assumed they have long surpassed their animalistic nature and advanced to a more civilized state of order. Yet here, before my very eyes, I see an age-old animal custom taking place, the Alpha Male accepting members into his pack. I eagerly look on, hoping I get to see another male challenging his place for leadership of the throne.

After another hour of ‘accepting’, I was surprised to find a small throng of males left outside, I assumed to be the weakest of the pack. Most of these the alpha male had unceremoniously rejected as unsuitable in joining his club-tribe. I tried to find a common ground as to why these individuals were unworthy of entrance, but for the life of me found no theory of firm basis. They still wore the same clothes, and held the same appearance as the rest of the males, yet the alpha male sent each of them packing with their tails between their legs. With what looked like curses muttered under their breath, they shuffled their feet home or try their luck elsewhere, hoping it would take a turn for the better. I felt extreme pity for these unfortunates, and as a result completely lost my admiration for this so-called Alpha Male. I resolved to find his dwelling later on and leave him a little surprise of my own.

Scouring the outside walls of the man-made construction, I found an open window I could squeeze into, so as I could make my observations on the events occurring within the club itself. I was immediately knocked off my feet by a shattering noise coming from numerous vibrating black boxes. I had heard of this before, it is called music, but this was different. This earsplitting rhythm was deafening, so much so that you couldn’t hear what anyone was saying. “This couldn’t be good for the ears,” I said to myself writhing in pain. Me being a squirrel and all, I was used to the peace and quiet of the forest, not this merciless flurry of attacks on my poor little eardrums. Why would the humans subject themselves to such torture? I imagined it to be some sort of aid they would use to help them reach a trance like state, where they could perform their rites of passage or commune with spiritual beings. Making a note to ponder on this further in the future, I plugged up my ears with some tree-wax I had handy and proceeded with the examination.

I had been told from reliable sources that a nightclub is in fact a dancing society. That is people dance in it. Yet as I sat on the rafters and watched, I saw that most of them were barely even shuffling their feet. All I could make out was people standing around and talking, (or trying to amidst this deafening racket!), snaking across the floor like some kind of regular animal trail pattern, and repeatedly going to this stand for various liquid concoctions of some kind. It must be the magical elixir I have heard so much about! From what I gathered from my observations of the humans who come to the Filani Grove, if enough of this liquid is consumed, it re-awakens their long suppressed basic instincts and breaks down those inhibitions that humans work so hard to master during their everyday lives. I could never understand this concept myself, for I am a squirrel after all. I do find it very confusing why the humans toil and sweat in creating these invisible barriers around them, only to magnificently topple them all down with a swig of this liquid. Previous experience had taught me that when enough of the fluid is taken, the humans will eventually commence with the dancing, so I had not lost hope yet. In the meantime, I kept an account of that paper humans frequently use being exchanged at that drink-stand for the highly-desired solutions. They seemed to be giving an awful lot of it for this magic elixir. From what reliable sources have told me, it is not so dear when acquired outside the club. Perhaps the kind they sell in the club is rare or impossible to find elsewhere, possessed of extra magical properties that will imbue them with the greatest of powers. It could even explain why people give so much of that paper to enter in the first place. I shrugged my shoulders and tossed this aside into the mental pile of unexplained mysteries that collectively make up humankind. The focus here is the Cypriot human and I have been veering off course trying to make light of the cultures of the entire human race, an impossible task if any for a mere squirrel!

           

From the birds-eye view I had in the rafters, I could easily make out the patterns of interaction with the males and females below. The females, who seemed to always keep one eye open for suitable suitors, clutched a drink in their one hand and a burning white stick in the other, which they would habitually bring up to their mouths and inhale a gust of smoke from. I had seen it before. It is called a ‘cigarette’. While constantly scanning the room, they would occasionally shout something in the ears of one of their female friends, probably giving attention to a newly spotted suitor. At other times, they would fall into a shuffling dance, wobbling their hips and other body parts in accordance with the beating music, keeping it up until interrupted or bored. It was as if they were sporadically falling into a trance-like state, induced by the music, the drink, the cigarette, and the atmosphere generated by all of these put together. They must have been performing their dance motions well apparently, since members of the opposite sex were watching their every move.

Speaking of the males, most moved around with the air of prowlers on the hunt. I watched one in particular, who was no different from the rest in his actions, but clearly stood out for his tenacity and persistence. On finding a female to his liking, he would stand some distance away, shambling his feet nervously or playing with his cigarette and drink. He would attempt to make eye contact, prancing to and fro, edging a bit closer with each sign he took as encouragement. I have seen the chickens in farms do a similar dance, although that involves dragging their wings along the dirt and clucking like there was no tomorrow. (For some, there wasn’t). This wasn’t very different, except that the human kept failing in his attempts to woo a female of his species. When he got close enough to striking distance, instead of jumping on her and biting her on the neck like many mammals would, he instead continued to dance with her. He would move in rhythm with her and make all other obvious indications that he is interested in mating with her except for the actual act itself. This approach obviously didn’t work, for with a huff and a puff, the female would turn her back at him and reject him, or simply walk away in disgust. The man in white was not daunted however. With a quick look around he would proceed onto his next quarry, without so much as a second thought for the last one. I quickly lost interest and left him to his own devices.

This process of filtration seemed to be taking place in some form or another in every corner of the nightclub. Females would allure the men over with their charms and seductions, yet reject them just as quickly when they approached or if the female lost interest. Shy males stood in corners staring at desirable mates, hoping they would be noticed, but were outclassed by the more dominant, proactive of their kind. Everywhere I turned it was there, the intricately complex mating rituals which so distinguished the human race from other animals. Each method was different from the last, and each specimen reacted to it differently. You would think by now, given that the humans are such a clever race, they would have agreed upon a simple standardized mating ritual that they can rely on, but it does not seem the case.

My firm resolution now is that nightclubs are not for dancing at all, which seems to be just a pretense to lure people to its grounds. The true purpose of these clubs is to act as breeding grounds and watering holes.  Hot-blooded humans flock to it, intent on finding ideal partners through the aid of an atmosphere generated by loud music, intoxicating drink, and the unavoidable mashing of so many specimens crowded in such a small space. That is my unyielding conclusion on the matter of nightclubs in Cyprus. Choking on the expanding fog of smoke, with throbbing in my ears and a general dizziness precipitated by the overcrowded swirling movements beneath me, I furtively escaped the tumult and hub of this place of such high expectations and made my way back to the Filani Grove to present my findings to Simoon the Owl. I hoped it would be to his satisfaction and he doesn’t make me into a pretty little brown hat, me being a squirrel and all…

A review of a casual modern U/G deck for Magic the Gathering

I thought I would try my hand in putting together an analysis of an MTG deck I built recently that I’m having a lot of fun playing with. As soon as I saw the evolve mechanic from the new Gatecrash expansion, I fell in love with it instantly. I’m a huge fan of anything to do with +1/+1 counters being placed on creatures. I had the same feeling when I got my hands on the undying mechanic and then again when I spotted Corpesjack Menace for the first time. I play mostly casual legacy decks around the kitchen table with my friends, so we have a pool of thousands of cards that can potentially combo off with new cards and mechanics as they come out. When I saw evolve, I knew there was golden opportunities to be had for the creation of an entertaining deck to play with, full of insane trigger combos and wild mutations.

I’ll start with the deck-list itself so you get an idea of what it’s all about. Keep in mind that this is a casual deck played mostly in multiplayer 2HG and Emperor games, so it’s design is not about getting 20 damage into the red zone as fast as possible, hence the exclusion of certain cards that play better if it was based more on 1 on 1 play. In addition, there’s no sideboard and it’s based around whatever cards I have available, so there’s always room for improvement and supplementing with the best cards out there.

Here’s a link to the Deck list online for easier viewing (complete with mouse-over preview!)

http://tappedout.net/mtg-decks/evolution-13-03-13-1/

Creature (24)	Instant (9)	Land (24)
4x Cloudfin Raptor	2x AEtherize	4x Breeding Pool
1x Crowned Ceratok	2x Bioshift	7x Forest
2x Cytoplast Root-Kin	2x Rapid Hybridization	4x Hinterland Harbor
2x Elusive Krasis	3x Simic Charm	7x Island
1x Fathom Mage		1x Llanowar Reborn
2x Gyre Sage	Enchantment (3)	1x Novijen, Heart of Progress
1x Master Biomancer
1x Primordial Hydra	1x Intruder Alarm
2x Shambleshark	2x Ooze Flux
1x Simic Manipulator
1x Trygon Predator
2x Vigean Hydropon
1x Vorapede
1x Wolfir Avenger
2x Zameck Guildmage

The Core Strategy of the Deck

As you can see at first glance, this is not a deck that has mostly four copies in every slot. There are so many cool cards I wanted to put in that I had to drop most of them down to less than four so I could include them all. The one exception is Cloudfin Raptor, which is just an absolute gem for the first drop and a must-have in your opening hand. Pretty much every other creature will evolve it from then on and most games it has ended up as a 3/4 or 4/5 unless it falls to some sniping fire early on.

In the 2 and 3 mana slot we have the usual evolve creatures, such as Gyre Sage, Simic Manipulator, and Elusive Krasis. A Wolfir Avenger works the same way as a Shambleshark, evolving your creatures at instant speed and also acting as a surprise blocker.

A great mechanic to pair evolve with is its Ravnican predecessor, graft. A Vigean Hyropon will likely evolve all your creatures when it comes down, and then passes on its +1/+1 counters to those more deserving of it, such as Simic Manipulator and Fathom mage. The Cytoplast Root-kin does an even better job at this. Not only will he trigger evolve with his hefty 4/4 body, but will also boost your creatures with another free +1/+1 counter to boot. Since evolve and his ability trigger at the same time, you can stack evolve first, making sure you can hit the motherload. A great joy passes through me whenever I draw one, as it usually means my other creatures will all double in size. Not only does he make a huge impact when he enters the battlefield, but his last ability can be used for multiple purposes: keeping another creature small so its evolve triggers, saving counters from a creature which is about to hit the dust, or even resetting undying (more on that later).

Another great card that at first glance seems weak is Ooze Flux. With just a few evolve creatures and Ooze Flux down, you have a great engine for churning out creature tokens at the cheap cheap price of 2 mana a piece. For example, you can remove a +1/+1 counter from each of two small evolve creatures and put a 2/2 ooze into play. That will in turn trigger evolve again, giving them back their lost counters. Rinse and repeat. Astute players may have now spied the infinite combo in this deck. See it yet?

Imagine this. You have an Ooze Flux, a Gyre Sage with 2 counters on it and at least two other evolve creatures (also with at least 1 counter on them). Now you play the single Intruder Alarm you’ve been saving in your hand with mischievous glee, waiting for the right moment to unleash it. Tap the Gyre Sage for 2 mana to feed into Ooze Flux and whip out a 3/3 Ooze by removing a counter from each of the 3 creatures. They get all their counters back and Intruder Alarm triggers, untapping the Gyre Sage. Do it again, and again, and again, then one more time for good measure...Ok maybe one more time. Bring out your wad of 68 million Ooze tokens that you’ve been saving up for this occasion, and watch your opponents face as you sprawl them out nonchalantly on the battlefield.

Zameck Guildmage is a great card in this deck for obvious reasons, but I find usually he falters when played early on, since you have to save mana for his abilities which would be of much better use bringing down your creatures as fast as possible. In the late game he’s a much better play, as long as there is mana to spare to make your plays and use him at the same time. I threw in a single Vorapede because there are so many ways to reset its undying and it will evolve your creatures every time it comes back into the battlefield.

As far as other non-creature spells go, they are mostly for tempo control and protection. Simic Charm and Rapid Hybridization are just so versatile that they are a must-have. AEtherize has saved me so many times and can be a ridiculous card to play in multiplayer. Bioshift can be extremely useful as a combat trick or as a creature-saver. You can shift the counters from a Vigean Hydropon or Bloated Primordial Hydra to another creature at instant speed that would make better use of them, such as a Simic Manipulator, Fathom mage, or Elusive Krasis.

Future Evolution

There are many ways this deck can be improved upon. It’s probably not going to win the next Modern Pro-Tour, or even the next Friday Night Magic, but it’s definitely loads of fun to play with casually and in Multiplayer. If you were to mutate it for more competitive play (no pun intended!), I would put 4 copies of the best of the creatures instead of spreading them out as I have for variety. You can also throw in Experiment One, Thragtusk, and perhaps a Prime Speaker Zegana for insane card advantage.

Another approach this deck can take is to profit more on the undying combo, such as with Young Wolf and Strangleroot Geist. There are so many ways to remove counters that you can virtually keep an undying creature alive forever. There is also the added benefit that they will come into the battlefield bigger the second time, triggering evolve twice. I avoided focusing on undying because it can become really annoying for your opponents, and that’s something that always needs to be considered if you’re building a casual deck for friendly play.

Originally, this deck was going to splash black for Corpesjack Menace, a beautiful card that unfortunately doesn’t get enough attention in competitive play. It is rather expensive and you usually end up playing it after most of your evolve creatures already came down, which kind of beats the point. But once it does come down it will more than earn its keep, since almost every creature benefits from it in some way. In the end I opted to keep this deck U/G so as not to risk mana issues.

So that’s pretty much it. All in all I really enjoy playing with this deck, as it really brings out the Johnny in me. I hope you enjoyed this review and got something out of it. Until next time, play safe and may you always see three lands in your opening hands!