In the sun

On the top shelf of my minifridge, right next to my most recent acquisition of orange soda, is a single can of grape-flavored Tropicana Twister brand soda.

The story behind this can is a simple one: Tiger Inn used to sell cans of grape soda at the beginning of the year. That's where the can comes from. The reason it's the only one in my fridge is because I realized shortly after getting it that it was actually one of the last cans of grape soda that Tiger Inn would stock. Not being one to simply consume something that suddenly becomes almost unique in a torrent of immediacy, I decided that I wouldn't drink the grape soda just because I wanted to.

I decided that the grape soda would be for a special occasion, like a very cheap and nonalcoholic imitation of champagne. The grape soda would be celebratory.

But since the scarcity of the can is so high, this is quite possibly the most special can of grape soda I have ever owned. It doesn't deserve to be taken after something as mundane as getting a paycheck, or something as common as writing a paper. This takes something that could be deemed a cornerstone of my life.

Arguably, there was a case for drinking it when I turned 20. You only enter a new decade of your life, like, every five to seven years. But I don't really regard an age as a cornerstone. Certainly, it's a milestone, by which I can measure how far I've come up to this point, but as far as achievements go... It just doesn't seem like something to cheer about.

I would say that that's the only real mile/cornerstone that I've hit since I got the can. There's the purchase of this iPod, but that just means that I had $300 at some point recently. Material goods, unless they're monumental, shouldn't really count for much. If this had been an iPod that I won in a contest, or if it had been a purchase made because I won a good sum of money in a contest, then I'd drink the grape soda.

I guess that some people would argue that I am putting too much thought into what I would consider to be a cornerstone. I'm sure that others still would think that it's just a stupid can of grape soda and that I should get over it. It's my belief that these latter people do not have grape soda of their own, and are therefore rationalizing that it's probably a can of sour grape soda, anyway.

And to the former group, I would have to say that I am confident in my ability to discern a cornerstone in my life from the mundane and the routine.

So until I find that cornerstone, I know I'll have that grape soda waiting for me on the top shelf of my minifridge.

Drowsy musings

I was with my friend Andrew in the campus coffee shop earlier today, looking at the various options I had for cold drinks. I was thirsty, you see, and delicious as coffee is, I just didn't feel like downing a hot one on a warm fall day (in spite of the fact that it's over 80 degrees outside, I want my readers to acknowledge that it has, in fact, been fall since September 22).

So I saw the Aquafina and the water and the smoothie list, and noticed that Aquafina costs $1.25 where water costs $1.00. Thinking that I had missed the day where Aquafina stopped being water, I looked at the drink case and saw that the Aquafina was all of the flavor splash variety. Well, that explained it, I thought, but Andrew told me that he sees Aquafina as pure evil.

And somehow this brought us to the topic of parallel universes. I believe the train of thought went something like this: why the hate toward Aquafina, did Aquafina kill his dad, maybe in a parallel universe.

Yes. That's it.

And so my wonderings were fixed on parallel universes. It's incredible, that when we say to ourselves "anything's possible," we don't really mean it, because we believe that there's a certain amount of rationality to anything in the universe, even those things that seem completely irrational. In a parallel universe, I am equivalent to this universe's Indiana Jones. And I'm probably fighting the evil corporation of Aquafina for killing Andrew's dad.

Or maybe I'm actually the operative from Aquafina that killed Andrew's dad. My conscience is unphased by this act, which the me that's typing this is completely against, and I'm setting traps for the unassuming Andrew to fall into. Or we could look at a different universe where Andrew knows that I'm laying traps for him, and he eventually makes it to where I am and kills me. Gosh, that'd suck.

I'm sure there are plenty of parallel universes where I'm a homeless guy, too. Maybe there are a handful where I dance and sing for food on some corner in New York because I couldn't make it as a line dancer and that was my lifelong dream. In that other universe.

On the same token, there have to be plenty of universes (much like this one) where I'm just this normal guy who isn't Indiana Jones, or an incredibly powerful businessman, or a hobo. And I'm just trying to find my way in life. Maybe I'm happier. Maybe I'm not happier. One of the bitter ironies, of course, would be that in some other universe, I might have everything that I want in this universe, and still not be happy. Or it would actually be making me unhappy.

The really tricky thing about thinking in terms of infinite universes is that just because there are infinite opportunities for something to happen... doesn't necessarily mean that it actually ever does. Are there some factors of existence that are true in absolutely every reality? By that same token, are there some things in all of existence that have absolute no chance of happening?

Are there some things, some people, some places, some events, that are completely unique, only seen just one single time, in one universe, in one instance, for one little blip of eternity?

The more important question is... how do we react when we experience those things that will never be seen by anybody else, ever, in this or any other existence?