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A letter to a Centenarian Superstar

Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.

Dear Centenarian Superstar (a.k.a. My Time-Defying Twin),

Holy guacamole, you *actually* hit 100! Did you chug from the Fountain of Youth, replace your morning coffee with nanobot smoothies, OR—wait—did those chaotic “alchemy experiments” in the garage *finally* pay off?! Tell me you found the Philosopher’s Stone wedged between the couch cushions. Did you transmute lead into wine (or at least into decent retirement funds)?! I always knew your obsession with glowing mason jars and cryptic symbols would outshine St. Germain someday. Bet he’s *fuming* in his immortal fancy-pants castle while you’re over here turning dust into diamonds and  still forgetting where you left your keys. Legend. 

Let’s address the elephant in the room: How’d you afford this? Did you perfect that “retired” bank heist and license your alchemy patents? (“Eternal Youth™, now with free Wi-Fi!”) Or did you just challenge Death to a chess match… using pieces made of solid gold you whipped up in the microwave? I’m picturing you now: part mad scientist, part cryptid, dodging expiration dates and historians trying to fact-check your “I knew Shakespeare” stories. 

But surviving a century? Please. You didn’t just survive—you alchemized chaos into charisma. Between reverse-engineering immortality elixirs and teaching parrots to say “Avada Kedavra” as a party trick, you’ve basically turned existence into a DIY craft project. Did you train by arm-wrestling vampires? Or just perfect the art of napping so hard you confused the Grim Reaper with a door-to-door salesman? Either way, you’ve earned your crown in the “Sassy Centenarian Hall of Fame.” 

Now, the big question: What’s next? 200? Why not! You’ve already beaten St. Germain at his own game (take that, 18th-century drama llama). Next stop: selling “How to Out-Alchemy Your Enemies” masterclasses on Skillshare. Or maybe just trolling future historians by leaving fake ancient artifacts in your backyard. Remember, aging is mandatory, but maturity is optional—keep hiding whoopie cushions in nursing homes and explaining TikTok to confused robots. 

You’re proof that life’s a wild ride, and the seatbelt’s just a suggestion. Keep raging against the dying of the light… or at least keep the light on past 8 p.m. You’ve got this, you magnificent, slightly-radioactive legend. 

Now go update your bucket list with a “beyond 100 List.”

—Your Zestier, Less-Wrinkled Former Self



P.S. If you did rob a bank, teleport me a clue back in time. I’ve got student loans. 
P.P.S.St. Germain’s ghost just slid into my DMs. He wants a rematch. I told him you’re busy inventing time travel and/or perfecting margarita recipes. Priorities. 
P.P.P.S. Aim for 200. I’ll meet you there. (As a cyborg. Or a sentient cloud of your finest alchemy fumes. Let’s stay *weird*.)


© Jurgens Pieterse. All Rights reserved. 2025

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My Name is a Biblical Circus and I’m the Clown with a Halo (Askew)

What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?

Let’s dive into this holy hot mess. My parents, armed with the audacity of a televangelist selling miracle water, baptized me with a name so sanctified it could guilt-trip a gargoyle. First name: George (patron saint of “I’ll slay dragons after my nap”). Middle name: Johannes (props to John the Baptist, the OG influencer of locust snacks and river baptisms). Surname: Peter (the apostle who ghosted Jesus harder than a Tinder date). Combine them, and you’ve got *St. George St. John St. Peter*—a trifecta of piety so potent, I’m basically the Bible’s answer to a group chat gone wrong. 

The expectations? Biblical. I’m supposed to part seas, but I can’t even part with my Amazon cart. My ancestors? A parade of George-Johannes-Peters who treated “sainthood” like a Yelp review they forgot to leave. Great-Grandpa George III once “exorcised” a whiskey bottle by draining it. Grandpa Johannes II rode through a rebellion war on horseback, though rumor says his horse had better survival instincts than he did. And Dad? His garage sermons featured more F-bombs than a Tarantino script, usually directed at a carburetor that “had a demonic possession.” 

But hey, tradition is tradition! So I yeeted this sacred hot potato to my son. Plot twist!  The kid’s gay, which means: 
1. Heaven’s got a *fabulous* new interior designer. 
2. He took one look at our family’s “legacy” and declared, “Honey, I’ve Van Gogh’d this name masterpiece. Let’s not add a fifth George—this canvas is done.”

Fair. The kid radiates more divinity eating avocado toast than we’ve collectively mustered since the Middle Ages. 

So here I am, sipping a sacramental energy drink, whispering Hail Marys over my lost genealogical burden. St. John, if you’re eavesdropping: I’ll honor you by not eating bugs. Probably.

Amen.



**#SaintedNotSaintly #GodsFavoriteTrainwreck #DontBlameMeBlameGenealogy**

© Jurgens Pieterse. All Rights reserved. 2025

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Light Just Got Even Weirder: Scientists Create a Supersolid Form of Light

What is the last thing you learned?

What did I learn last? That light has been transformed into a supersolid for the first time. That’s right—scientists have managed to make light behave like both a solid and a superfluid at the same time. If that sounds like something straight out of science fiction, I had the same reaction.

Physicists achieved this by trapping light inside an ultra-cold quantum gas of rubidium atoms, creating what’s known as a Bose-Einstein Condensate (BEC).

This is a state of matter where particles behave as a single quantum entity. By carefully engineering interactions between the photons and the atoms, they got light to form a supersolid—something that maintains a rigid structure like a solid but can also flow without resistance, like a superfluid. Imagine honey that holds its shape like a crystal but still moves effortlessly. That’s essentially what’s happening here.

This is a huge deal for a few reasons. First, it confirms that light can exist in a completely new state of matter, something never seen before. Second, it challenges our understanding of quantum physics—light has always been tricky to classify, flipping between acting like a wave and a particle, but now it’s breaking the rules in an entirely new way. And third, it could have incredible real-world applications. While we don’t yet know exactly where this discovery will lead, breakthroughs like this tend to pave the way for future technologies. Quantum computing, precision measurement, and next-generation optical devices could all be influenced by what scientists have just uncovered.

For now, it’s a fascinating glimpse into the strange and wonderful world of quantum mechanics. Every time I read about discoveries like this, I’m reminded of how much mystery still exists in the universe—and how exciting it is to keep learning.

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A Reflection on Roles, Harmony, and Partnership

What were your parents doing at your age?


When I think about my parents and what they were doing at my age, I’m struck by how different their lives were from mine—and yet, how much I can learn from the way they navigated their roles, responsibilities, and relationship. Their story is a testament to the beauty of partnership, even in the absence of what we might now call “equality.” It’s a story of balance, mutual respect, and an unspoken understanding that sometimes, life is about giving a little more so that the other can thrive. 


My father was a self-made man, a toolmaker by trade. By the time he was my age, he was already working for himself, repairing valves and running his own small business. He had a factory—a rented space in a huge warehouse filled with his equipment and machinery. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was his. He took pride in his work, in providing for his family, and in the independence that came with being his own boss. His days were long, and his hands were often stained with grease, but he never complained. For him, his role was clear: he was the provider, the one who ensured there was food on the table and a roof over their heads. 


My mother, on the other hand, was at home. Her world revolved around making sure my father had everything he needed to succeed in his role. She cooked, cleaned, and managed the household, ensuring that he returned each day to a warm meal and a tidy home. Her work was never-ending, but she approached it with the same dedication and pride that my father brought to his factory. She saw her role as just as vital as his—not because society told her it was, but because she understood that their partnership was a delicate balance. She was the caretaker, the one who created the stability and comfort that allowed him to focus on his work. 


At first glance, their dynamic might seem outdated by today’s standards. There was no discussion of equality, no splitting of chores or debates about who should do what. My father had his role, and my mother had hers. But what’s remarkable is that neither of them saw their roles as diminishing the other. They didn’t keep score or resent the other for what they did or didn’t do. Instead, they lived in a kind of harmony—a give-and-take that acknowledged the ebb and flow of life. 


There were times when my father had to work late into the night, leaving my mother to manage everything on her own. And there were times when my mother needed extra support, and my father stepped up without hesitation. They understood that life isn’t always fair or balanced, and that sometimes, one person has to carry a little more weight so that the other can catch their breath. But over time, they knew, these things evened out. 
Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was rooted in mutual respect and a deep understanding of each other’s value. They didn’t need to prove who was more important because they both knew they were essential to the life they had built together. It was a partnership in the truest sense—one where they celebrated each other’s contributions and didn’t let pride or ego get in the way of their shared goals. 
As I reflect on their lives at my age, I can’t help but admire the simplicity and depth of their connection. They didn’t have the language of modern relationships or the frameworks we use today to define equality and partnership. But they had something perhaps even more powerful: an unshakable commitment to each other and a willingness to give and take without keeping score. 


In a world that often feels obsessed with fairness and balance, their story reminds me that sometimes, the most important thing isn’t who does what, but how much we’re willing to give—and how deeply we appreciate what the other brings to the table. 


What were my parents doing at my age? They were building a life together, one valve repair and one home-cooked meal at a time. And in doing so, they taught me that true harmony isn’t about equality—it’s about love, respect, and the willingness to carry each other when the load gets heavy.

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“The Mirror of Truth: A Kingdom’s Awakening”

Once upon a time, in a vast and diverse kingdom known as the Union of Realms, a ruler named King Dravon returned to the throne after years away. His re-coronation was met with both celebration and murmurs of unease, for King Dravon was a leader of conviction, yet his vision for the realm was a polarizing one.


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Act I: The Return of the King

The kingdom had endured tumultuous years under the stewardship of a different council, which had forged alliances with neighboring lands and embraced the wisdom of sages from across the world. But King Dravon, believing the kingdom had strayed from its true destiny, declared:
“We shall no longer bow to foreign councils or heed the whispers of outsiders. Our strength lies within.”

He proclaimed new decrees:

1. The Walls of the Realm Shall Rise Again – To protect the kingdom from outsiders, though it would also keep its people confined.


2. The Guild of Voices Shall Be Silenced – To weed out dissent among scholars and scribes.


3. The Council of Diversity Shall Be Disbanded – To replace inclusivity with his idea of merit and order.



Though many cheered his boldness, others in the kingdom feared the shadow these decrees cast over freedom and unity.


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Act II: The Whispering Winds

Beyond the kingdom’s borders, neighboring lands watched with concern. The Kingdom of Concord, the Union of Allied Sages, and the Verdant Isles—all once allies—sent envoys to plead with King Dravon to reconsider his isolationist path. But their pleas fell on deaf ears.
“The Union of Realms must forge its destiny alone,” the king declared, turning the envoys away.

Yet, as the walls grew higher, so did the whispers of discontent within the kingdom. A secret council of storytellers, philosophers, and travelers formed in the shadows, determined to preserve the kingdom’s fading diversity of thought. They called themselves the Keepers of the Flame, for they believed freedom of speech and the exchange of ideas were the true light of the land.


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Act III: The Phoenix of Rebellion

One day, a young wanderer named Aria—a child of both the Union and the Verdant Isles—arrived in the capital. Aria carried with her an ancient relic, The Mirror of Truth, said to reveal the heart of a ruler to their people. She spoke to the Keepers of the Flame:
“The king has forgotten the power of reflection. If the people see his true heart, perhaps the light of understanding will guide him back.”

Under the cover of darkness, the Keepers and Aria infiltrated the royal court. During a grand festival celebrating the king’s decrees, they unveiled the Mirror of Truth before the gathered masses.

To their astonishment, the mirror did not reflect the king’s visage alone. Instead, it revealed two images: one of a steadfast protector who sought to shield his people, and another of a fearful soul, building walls out of insecurity.


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Act IV: The Awakening

The crowd gasped. The king, seeing himself in the mirror, faltered. For the first time, he realized the weight of his actions—not just the power they wielded, but the shadows they cast. Aria stepped forward, addressing the king and the people:
“True strength lies not in silence but in the harmony of many voices. A kingdom divided by walls cannot flourish.”

Moved by the reflection and the courage of his people, King Dravon made a choice. He decreed the walls would not rise higher, the scribes and scholars would speak freely once more, and the kingdom would rejoin the councils of the world.


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Act V: A New Dawn

Though the journey was far from over, the Union of Realms began to heal. King Dravon worked alongside the Keepers of the Flame to foster dialogue and unity. The Mirror of Truth was enshrined in the Hall of Wisdom, a reminder that even rulers must reflect on their own hearts.

And so, the kingdom learned that freedom, like fire, must be tended carefully to keep it burning brightly.

The End.