My Answers to 'The Cube'
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
There's a pop psycho-babble quiz floating about on the internet called 'The Cube'. It asks that you describe 5 objects, and supposedly, will give you insight into your mental make up. The 5 objects are:
1. A cube
2. A ladder
3. A horse
4. A storm
5. A flower
Anyway, here are my answers. Read into them what you will.
1. Cube: I'm facing north, standing on the south rim of a dry river bed. The ledge I'm standing on rises about twenty feet above the bed of the wash. The far rim looms a hundred yards away perhaps.
I see a tree line of cottonwoods and willows along the far wall, so maybe this shallow gulch isn't as dry as I thought. The river when it flows, runs west to east, gauging by the ripples in the sandbars visible from where I stand. Clumps of sage and a few juniper trees dot its dusty course.
The river is cutting its way through a crust of limestone at this point. Thick ledges of cream colored rock abruptly drop about five feet. Then the detrius gently slopes down to the stream bed. Around me are small clumps of sage, gray-green in the sunlight. The air smells dry and dusty.
It's noon and, surprisingly, the air temperature is quite moderate, given that I'm standing in the middle of a desert in early May. Seventy five to eighty degrees Farenheit, I'd estimate. The sky overhead is blue as blue can be. The only sounds I can hear are the ones I generate, heart beat, peristalsis, breathing and so on. The soil, if you can call it that, is light tan, almost bleached to white, cracked into small cakes, and liberally mixed with shards of limestone and shale.
Down in the river bed, about fifty yards from where I'm standing, I see a cube. It's due north of me and rather large, roughly twenty feet to a side. It rests solidly on a sandbar. The corners face the cardinal points of the compass. From this vantage, I can see three of the faces, the top, southeast, and southwest face.
The opaque surface of the cube gleams a milky, opalescent white. Shimmering, pastel pink, blue, green, and yellow arabesques chase each other across the surface. It almost looks like mist swirling just behind the faces of the cube. The cube emanates a friendly, yet somewhat reserved aura.
Not far, ten to fifteen feet perhaps, from the southeast face of the cube, stands a lone, mature cottonwood. It's thirty to thirty five feet tall, and provides shade, shielding the southeast face of the cube from direct sunlight.
2. There's a weather beaten, wooden ladder resting up against the southeast face of the cube about three feet from the south edge. In my minds eye, I zoom in on it. Up close I notice it's gray and rough, paint long since weathered off. Sturdy spindles still tightly wedged into the spars make up the rungs. The ladder leans at a steep angle maybe seventy five to eight degrees against the face of the cube. The butt solidly planted in the sand, the other end gracefully caresses the cube's upper edge. The ladder extends a few feet beyond the upper edge so I'd estimate it's about twenty five feet long. Rungs evenly spaced about a foot apart run all the way along the length. It would easily support my weight, should I chose to climb it.
3. Horse: A haltered, dappled gray, arabian mare stands tethered to the ladder by a fifteen foot, quarter inch, white nylon rope. Aside from the halter, she's free of encumbrances. The mare seems quite content to be standing there, looking around curiously at her surroundings. Since it's my imagination, there's a manger and a stainless steel watering trough roughly five feet from the ladder in the shade of the cottonwood tree. The manger has thoughtfully been filled with a quarter bale of sweet alfalfa, and the trough is full of cool, clear water. The mare moves over to the manger and begins to feed.
4. Storm: As I look off to the northwest, I see a storm front stretching across the sky from the horizon west, west, northwest of me to the horizon north, north, northwest. The front is easily twenty to twenty five miles away. Multiple thunderheads soar sixty to seventy thousand feet into the air.
The cloud ceiling hovers roughly five thousand feet above ground level, and looks like it had been sheared smooth with a butcher's cleaver. The leading edge of the front rises preposterously perpendicular to the cloud base. It's almost as if the whole storm front had been edged by a T - square. Under the shadow of the storm, it's dark purple almost black, but the thunderheads are pure snowy white. They seem to gleam against the clear blue sky behind them.
I see lightning flash in the center of the storm and see heavy rain sheet out from the cloud base, like a purple, grey curtain shielding the land. I see the energy billowing up through the thunderheads, white fluffs of cloud materializing out of nothing. It looks like they're writhing, whether in ecstasy or pain, I can not tell.
I can tell the storm front is moving west to east at about ten miles per hour. And, almost certainly, the brunt will miss me entirely. I may have to endure a bit of the fringe though. The vacuum created by the thunderheads towering along the front causes a gentle breeze to pick up. It feels nice against my slightly sweaty body. The bulk of the cube stands between the mare and the storm, although she notices the movement of the air. She lifts her head from the alfalfa for a bit, sniffs, looks around, and then decides that the hay is ever so much more compelling.
5. Around the base of the cottonwood are some small patches of wildflowers. I'm no botonist, so I have no idea what they are. All I can see from this distance are some irregular swatches of vibrant reds, yellows, purples, and blues. If I had the eyesight of The Deerslayer, and the liberal assistance of James Fenimore Cooper, I could likely see what kinds of flowers they are. Alas, since I'm a mere mortal, and the flowers are some fifty yards distant, the best I can do is report color.
1. A cube
2. A ladder
3. A horse
4. A storm
5. A flower
Anyway, here are my answers. Read into them what you will.
1. Cube: I'm facing north, standing on the south rim of a dry river bed. The ledge I'm standing on rises about twenty feet above the bed of the wash. The far rim looms a hundred yards away perhaps.
I see a tree line of cottonwoods and willows along the far wall, so maybe this shallow gulch isn't as dry as I thought. The river when it flows, runs west to east, gauging by the ripples in the sandbars visible from where I stand. Clumps of sage and a few juniper trees dot its dusty course.
The river is cutting its way through a crust of limestone at this point. Thick ledges of cream colored rock abruptly drop about five feet. Then the detrius gently slopes down to the stream bed. Around me are small clumps of sage, gray-green in the sunlight. The air smells dry and dusty.
It's noon and, surprisingly, the air temperature is quite moderate, given that I'm standing in the middle of a desert in early May. Seventy five to eighty degrees Farenheit, I'd estimate. The sky overhead is blue as blue can be. The only sounds I can hear are the ones I generate, heart beat, peristalsis, breathing and so on. The soil, if you can call it that, is light tan, almost bleached to white, cracked into small cakes, and liberally mixed with shards of limestone and shale.
Down in the river bed, about fifty yards from where I'm standing, I see a cube. It's due north of me and rather large, roughly twenty feet to a side. It rests solidly on a sandbar. The corners face the cardinal points of the compass. From this vantage, I can see three of the faces, the top, southeast, and southwest face.
The opaque surface of the cube gleams a milky, opalescent white. Shimmering, pastel pink, blue, green, and yellow arabesques chase each other across the surface. It almost looks like mist swirling just behind the faces of the cube. The cube emanates a friendly, yet somewhat reserved aura.
Not far, ten to fifteen feet perhaps, from the southeast face of the cube, stands a lone, mature cottonwood. It's thirty to thirty five feet tall, and provides shade, shielding the southeast face of the cube from direct sunlight.
2. There's a weather beaten, wooden ladder resting up against the southeast face of the cube about three feet from the south edge. In my minds eye, I zoom in on it. Up close I notice it's gray and rough, paint long since weathered off. Sturdy spindles still tightly wedged into the spars make up the rungs. The ladder leans at a steep angle maybe seventy five to eight degrees against the face of the cube. The butt solidly planted in the sand, the other end gracefully caresses the cube's upper edge. The ladder extends a few feet beyond the upper edge so I'd estimate it's about twenty five feet long. Rungs evenly spaced about a foot apart run all the way along the length. It would easily support my weight, should I chose to climb it.
3. Horse: A haltered, dappled gray, arabian mare stands tethered to the ladder by a fifteen foot, quarter inch, white nylon rope. Aside from the halter, she's free of encumbrances. The mare seems quite content to be standing there, looking around curiously at her surroundings. Since it's my imagination, there's a manger and a stainless steel watering trough roughly five feet from the ladder in the shade of the cottonwood tree. The manger has thoughtfully been filled with a quarter bale of sweet alfalfa, and the trough is full of cool, clear water. The mare moves over to the manger and begins to feed.
4. Storm: As I look off to the northwest, I see a storm front stretching across the sky from the horizon west, west, northwest of me to the horizon north, north, northwest. The front is easily twenty to twenty five miles away. Multiple thunderheads soar sixty to seventy thousand feet into the air.
The cloud ceiling hovers roughly five thousand feet above ground level, and looks like it had been sheared smooth with a butcher's cleaver. The leading edge of the front rises preposterously perpendicular to the cloud base. It's almost as if the whole storm front had been edged by a T - square. Under the shadow of the storm, it's dark purple almost black, but the thunderheads are pure snowy white. They seem to gleam against the clear blue sky behind them.
I see lightning flash in the center of the storm and see heavy rain sheet out from the cloud base, like a purple, grey curtain shielding the land. I see the energy billowing up through the thunderheads, white fluffs of cloud materializing out of nothing. It looks like they're writhing, whether in ecstasy or pain, I can not tell.
I can tell the storm front is moving west to east at about ten miles per hour. And, almost certainly, the brunt will miss me entirely. I may have to endure a bit of the fringe though. The vacuum created by the thunderheads towering along the front causes a gentle breeze to pick up. It feels nice against my slightly sweaty body. The bulk of the cube stands between the mare and the storm, although she notices the movement of the air. She lifts her head from the alfalfa for a bit, sniffs, looks around, and then decides that the hay is ever so much more compelling.
5. Around the base of the cottonwood are some small patches of wildflowers. I'm no botonist, so I have no idea what they are. All I can see from this distance are some irregular swatches of vibrant reds, yellows, purples, and blues. If I had the eyesight of The Deerslayer, and the liberal assistance of James Fenimore Cooper, I could likely see what kinds of flowers they are. Alas, since I'm a mere mortal, and the flowers are some fifty yards distant, the best I can do is report color.
