Magic, In Tiers

I have long thought about magic. What it is, what it isn't, how it may or must not work.  Some months ago, perhaps even a year in my past, I came up with this system of ranking magic.  I haven't come up with a final name for it yet, but for now, it's "The Tiers of Magic."  The principle is that there are three basic levels of magic, and all possible magical systems fit into one of these three. I both believe that every account of magic in the real world fits into one of these systems, and would probably overtly use these categories overtly if I ever get around to writing my own fantasy story.

First things first though; we need a definition. Going to Merriam-Webster, I found a few definitions. I prefer to use 2a of the noun form, which is as follows: "an extraordinary power or influence seemingly from a supernatural source." This works nicely for my purposes. Not too vague, not too narrow. Now, on to my categories.

FIRST MAGIC
Also called "Deep Magic" or sometimes "True Magic"
This is the magic that supersedes the natural laws to which we have become accustomed.  Most fantasy magic fits into this category. I also believe that miracles and dark magic in the real world fit into this: miracles because that's what the laws are for, dark magic because no power can break those rules.  Many of my Christian Brethren take offense at the idea of calling miracles "magic," but I have always felt that Miracles are, strictly speaking, the ultimate example of true magic. The reason I call this "Deep Magic" is because of a passage in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, where the White Witch calls on the magic that made the world to demand blood, and Aslan *spoilers* calls on the deeper magic from before the world was made to redeem it.
The idea behind deep magic is that you appeal to higher laws. For example, the law of man says that you can't crush another man's head. The law of gravity says, "yes you can, you just need a big enough rock and a roof from which to drop it." This does not mean there won't be consequences in the lower laws (you'll still go to prison for head-smashery). It just means that the lower laws don't control the higher laws.  Here is an abridged hierarchy of laws: Laws of Man are inferior to Inherent Moral Laws are inferior to* Physical Laws are inferior to Logical Laws are inferior to (or perhaps the same as) the Nature of God. Nothing can truly defy God's nature: you can only rebel against it, just as jumping in the air doesn't break the law of gravity.
For atheists, skeptics, and the like, this category is entirely fictional. But I am not at all an atheist, hardly a skeptic (in the philosophical sense), and very little like either of them.

*Note, this is a hierarchy of influence, not of quality.  I consider moral law to be superior in quality to the Physical and Logical Laws.

SECOND MAGIC
Also called "Science," "Illusion," or "Prestidigitation," along with a host of other names
This is the magic that abides by the natural laws, and seeks to go no further. It exploits little-known quirks of perception and reality to dupe and amaze.  For those who think "science is just magic, sufficiently explained," I concede to you the Second Magic.  It is my least favorite system, when used on its own.  It saddens me.  It feels like a cheat when someone shows you something wonderful, and then you find out there's very little wonder in it at all. And in fiction, save perhaps Science-Fiction, it has no place. We are forced to live in a world where no one accepts real magic: why would you create a world that is the same in this way? Still, this is the magic most people see. It's the awe of a meal cooked in under a minute in a small box without the use of fire, and the spectacle of pulling a quarter out of a child's ear. Some might call these things two different categories, but I do not. If science is a type of magic, it is nothing more than a trick, and I will say no more on the subject at this time.

THIRD MAGIC
Also called "Chaos Magic," "Dark Magic," or "Zeroth Magic"
This is the magic that seeks to break all the rules. As I've already said, I group real dark magic into the category of First Magic, but many fantasy writers, in describing evil magic, talk about an unbound force that obeys nothing and is beholden to no rules.  This is ludicrous. If such a thing existed, the universe would not, as it could simply move through creation and undo it. What's more, it would be uncontrollable, so I honestly can't fathom why anyone would even want to use it, as they could never direct it.  Still, it seems very compatible with the aims of an evil wizard, does it not?  This is a category that is often used, but I do not think should exist, even in a fantasy world, because I prefer worlds that are internally consistent, and I do not see how any world where the Third Magic is real could be so.
As for why I call it both "Third Magic" and "Zeroth Magic," is that there are two ways to order the magics. The one I prefer is in order of power.  First Magic is most powerful because it need not obey the standard laws of physics. Second Magic can do amazing things, but not that. Third Magic, I do not acknowledge as possible, and therefore it can accomplish nothing. It would, however, be possible to group the magical types according to how many rules they follow, in which case this last magic follows none, and therefore is prior even to First Magic. The term "zeroth," I found in the wikipedia article about Asimov's Three Laws, and the less-well-known Zeroth Law.

I heartily invite comments on how to improve my system for fantasy writing purposes, or serious discussions of the real-world ideas I expressed. I will not honor inflammatory or insulting remarks in regards to my beliefs regarding miracles, magic, or God, however.

Past Part One

So, I really don't know where to begin in regards to my past. To be honest, I don't know much about my past, period. The large majority of my childhood is gappy, populated only with stories I remember being told and a few poignant memories. I couldn't even begin to put many of them in order. The vast majority of my memories are grouped by recalling either my relative size (I used to be small for my age) or which girl I liked at the time (there was almost always one specific girl). Therefore, I'll begin with three events from my pre-school days (I may or may not have attended pre-school at this time, but it was definitely prior to starting formal education, and so I will call it "pre-school.") I may have details wrong, but I will relate them as I remember them.

Round Cookie: My mom, my brother, and I were visiting our relatives in PA (Dad may have been there, but he's not in the memory). Ben and I each had gotten to eat at least one cookie. I had asked for another, and my aunt Emma (who was always just "Emma" to us), asked if I thought she should break a cookie in half for the two of us to share. My response, I'm told again and again, was "No, give Ben a ROUND cookie." At this point, the teller of the story stretches out the vowel of "round" to last at least a full second, while shaping their lips into a perfect 'o' shape—something I can only assume I did at the time. The joy of this story is that the adults saw in my childhood brain the greatest scheme of all time: if Ben got a "round" cookie, that is, an unbroken one, then I would logically get a full cookie as well. I can't be sure that was my motivation, but it seems consistent with my personality, both then and now.

Are You a Lion?: Much shorter, much cuter - my Dad tells me that I was bounding around the living room of our home roaring and in general behaving in a lion-like fashion. My Dad asked me "Are you a Lion?" My younger self apparently was quite precocious, because Dad says that without missing a beat, I replied in an exasperated tone: "No, I'm pretending to be a lion!" I'm not sure if I genuinely thought he was confused by my act or if I was insanely witty, but either way, it's an adorable story.

Dinosaur decorations: This story is actually from pre-school, because that's where it happened, at my late grandmother's preschool. I remember we were making what I'm fairly sure were Christmas ornaments shaped like dinosaurs. In fact, I think my parents still have one of them. They were made out of something that was somewhere between cookie dough and playdough, and I am 90% sure they were actually made with cookie-cutters and ribbon. I remember that I was so excited. I also remember that that was the day I discovered I had chicken-pox, and I got immediately sent home, without getting to finish my project. I was crestfallen. I think I may have known what it meant, because I seem to remember trying to hide that I was sick so I wouldn't miss out. I can only assume someone else, possibly Ben, had been sick with the Pox beforehand, and I had recognized how much I would be limited if the adults knew. This one isn't all that adorable, but keep this in mind in the event of a zombocolypse: I am not to be trusted. If you think I have been infected, you check me for bites and check daily for signs of change.

A Restarted Blog

I periodically tell myself I'm going to start blogging again. Just today, I found a friend's blog and read through it. She had recently completed a 30 day blogging challenge. The idea is here:

1. Something you hate about yourself
2. Something you love about yourself
3. Something you have to forgive yourself for
4. Something you have to forgive someone for
5. Something you hope to do in your life
6. Something you hope to never have to do
7. Someone who has made your life worth living for
8. Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit
9. Someone you didn't want to let go, but but just drifted
10. Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn't know
11. Something people seem to compliment you the most on
12. Something you never get complimented on
13. A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough-ass days (write a letter)
14. A hero that has let you down (letter)
15. Something or someone you couldn't live without, because you've tried living without it
16. Someone or something you definitely could live without
17. A book you've read that's changed your views on something
18. Your views on gay marriage
19. What do you think of religion? or What do you think of politics?
20. Your views on drugs & alcohol
21. (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two fought an hour before. What do you do?
22. Something you wish you hadn't done in your life
23. Something you wish you HAD done in your life
24. Make a playlist to someone and explain why you chose all the songs (just titles/artists and reasons)
25. The reason you believe you're still alive today
26. Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
27. What's the best thing going for your right now?
28. What if you were pregnant, or had gotten someone pregnant, what would you do?
29. Something you hope to change about yourself and why?
30. A letter to yourself. Tell yourself everything you love about yourself.

I immediately thought this was a cool idea. I began reading her entries and realized two things. First, I didn't really know her at all, despite considering her to be a friend, and second, I have nothing to write for several of these posts. I do, however, have a plan for returning to blogging. Namely, I will attempt to communicate to the internet in one way or another what scarce little I remember of my childhood up through when I began blogging. No idea how long it will take. No idea how much detail it will have. I'll try to come up with a catchy title for it by tomorrow.

Too long

It's been too long since I've blogged.

It's been too long since I've worked out.

It's been too long...

...since I practiced guitar

...since I wrote anything for myself

...since I called a friend out of the blue.

...since I tried to improve myself in general.

I have neglected a lot lately. I'm not sure I'll do any of these things, or the others that I've let slip, as a regular habit. I want to, but I can't be sure. I went for a run today. I'm blogging now. There's just so much to do.

Bullying

The news reported on a kid who was bullied because she was popular, and can't shut up about the gay kids who are being bullied. What about the straight, unpopular kids? What about the boys who are bad at sports? The girls with terrible complexions? What about all those people who hate their lives not because they look good on a poster for anti-bullying, but because they don't?

I'm tired of this. I'm angry because bullying wasn't a big deal when I was bullied. I'm angry because the kids who do the bullying don't get in trouble, because they are what the schools want their students to look, think, and act like. I'm angry because children are being driven to kill themselves over what's being said and done to them. I'm angry because something that made me miserable growing up is now being used as a gay rights issue.

Bullying is wrong. It's not wrong because of the victim, it's wrong because of the bully. You can be gay or straight, smart or dumb, pretty or homely. I have seen people in every one of these groups get bullied. In every case except pretty, they were bullied about being these things.

When I was in the sixth grade, a boy who had bullied me for years pinned my arm against the desk and pushed on both sides. I thought he was going to break it. Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn't. The point was, I was scared and in physical pain. When he finally let me go, I ran to the teacher: a substitute that day, by the name of Mr. Ramses. Mr. Ramses was the coach of one of the sports teams this boy was on. When I told him what had happened, he told me to quit whining about it. Two years later, after being teased by this same boy for an entire gym class, I snapped back one threat, to the effect of "I'll rip your head off". He went to the office, and I was called in. I was nearly suspended. He said he felt threatened, despite being twice my size and, as he had pointed out many times that day alone, was far stronger than me.

Schools support bullies. They always will. They don't care about the rest of us.

Moving Away

Some months ago, I moved to New York. Some months before that, I had planned to move to LA, while still in school. I've already covered in here why I didn't move to LA. Here's why I did move to New York.

First of all, I wasn't finding a job back home. The market here isn't great, but I still managed to get a job, and that does fill one with a certain sense of accomplishment. In my entire jobhunt, I had two interviews: one was a mass-interview for an insurance company which would require that I become certified first, while the other was working as something like an orderly in something like a nursing home, but they turned me down. I really didn't want either job, though. Largely, because of my second reason.

My second reason is that I had friends here. Two of my dearest friends. Some might say my two dearest friends. They had gotten married last year, and wanted me to come live here. We'd talked about it briefly before. For some reason, they finally succeeded. The difference was my first reason, combined with my third reason.

My third reason was a woman named Renée. We'd met at the wedding of those same two friends. She was a nearly-lifelong friend of the bride. I was a college friend of both. And due to a coincidence in the heights of groomsmen and bridesmaids, we ended up walking together at their wedding. Because we walked, we also danced. Our relationship didn't begin then. It was quite a while before we even admitted we liked each other. But that was the moment I fell for her. That was when I knew that, sooner or later, I needed to move to New York.

Morning Amnesia

So, yesterday, I was on the schedule to come into work today at 3PM. As such, I planned my sleep schedule to account for this. Last night, however, I got a call from work asking me to come in at 7 AM instead. Helpful guy that I am, I agreed. So this morning, when my alarm woke me at 6 in the morning, I was tired. So tired, in fact, that I had morning amnesia. Contrary to this comic observation, however, I actually was incredibly disturbed by the experience. I knew exactly two things: "I am awake" and "I should not be awake." Most noticeably, as I recall the experience, I did not know why I was awake. Not "why am I getting up so early" or "is this really worth it," but honestly, I didn't even understand that my alarm had woken me. It sucked. It sucked a lot.

Work itself, on the other hand, was unremarkable, and fairly lackluster. Apart from getting off after only 7 hours (which I will make up later in the week), it was pretty joyless. This is a shame, because I had had a string of several really great shifts at work. Oh well. You can't win them all.