Why can't we have tame, mannered arguments online without succumbing to calling other people's views bullshit, sophistry and such?
The veil of protection from physical interactions through the Internet also manifests a certain kind of rudeness. One's views are always deemed to be right in any argument. There can be no settling for middle ground. Boy, it's almost like the US elections. The other person may be confused or wrong, but there is no reason you should immediately denounce their views as bullshit or sophistry.
That's why I hate arguing online. People almost never get your point, and you almost never get theirs. There's a sort of chronic misunderstanding once talk on the internet goes beyond basic propositions. And what's left is a gap between the two arguers. What an annoyance.
Sheesh.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Ikiru / The Looming Bureaucracy
The film Ikiru by Kurosawa Akira is undoubtedly one of the best films I have ever watched that touched upon the themes of death, meaning and the encroachment of the bureaucracy on the human condition. I strongly recommend this film to anyone even slightly interested in existentialist themes.
WARNING: SPOILERS
The Protagonist, Watanabe Kanji, is a faceless minor bureaucrat in the Public Affairs division of the local government. He has spent the past 30 years working the same job, but as the narrator puts it:
"He is just wasting his time without really living his life. In other words, he's not really alive at all."
His family consists of him, his son and his daughter-in-law. The son and his wife does not really seem to value Kanji at all. They talk about using his pension and savings to buy a house for their own enjoyment. They say that "if he refuses to give us the money we'll just move out anyway!" The absolute value of Kanji as an end-in-itself, a human worth treating equally, is eroded; what is left is a commoditized Kanji, one that only has relative value because he is valuable as a means. A means for the son to satisfy his own desires and ends. Kanji's life was spent locked in the bureaucracy; even when his son was having an operation, he couldn't be with him until the end because "he had some things to do", again showing the trappings of work and bureaucracy. This notion of utilitarian commoditization within the bureaucracy will come back later in the story as well.
Upon his realization that he was afflicted with cancer, he immediately realizes, unlike poor Ivan Ilyich in Tolstoy's novella, that death was unto him like a spectre. He withdraws 50000 yen (a substantial amount in post-war Japan, I presume) with an intent to spend it, an act of reaffirmation of his life. Yet it hits him that he has absolutely no idea how to spend it, since his whole life was spent mired in work. He meets a writer in the bar who tells him (and later shows as well) that pleasures and indulgences are the only ways to tear himself away from the suffocation of work. Here the themes of life and meaning surface again. How should we live our lives? This question was not answered by pleasures in Kanji's view.
He meets a subordinate from his department outside who was looking for him to sign her resignation letter. She struck him immediately; she represents to him everything that he is not. Happiness, fulfilment and like he says later on: "You are just so full... of life." He desires to live truly like he sees her to be doing, and he finds out she quit the bureaucracy to work at a toy factory. "Making toys makes me feel like I am playing with all the children of Japan."
He then realizes that he had been doing it wrong: it was too late to change his own life, but perhaps he could still change the lives of others. He then remembered a project that the Womens' Committee had tried to propose but was truncated in the perverse loop within the bureaucracy. Public Affairs says it is the Engineering Department's Job, who says it's the Parks department's job and so on.
He tries his best to advocate for the project, and finally the project is done: A toxic cesspit was cleared to make way for a childrens' playground. He dies contented in the playground when internal hemorrhaging kills him.
Now it seems like a happy ending now, but the last part was acted out at his funeral, and his death tale told through the mouthpieces of the various co-workers in the bureaucracy. In the face of his family and relatives, the Mayor concludes in a cynical tone that Kanji's role in the park project was minimal, that it was all due to the auspice of himself and the Park / Engineering Department. The yes-men nod in agreement. What else can they say? They begin to fight over who's to bear credit for the park, forgetting or deceiving themselves that Kanji had little to no influence in the playground even though he was the one who fought through the bureaucratic inefficiency. Indeed, one man even proclaims, proudly, that "Kanji was from the start a Public Affairs man. How DARE he try to build a park. He's ignoring the bureaucratic demarcations!"
Yet, for all their self-righteousness, they were unable to look the women in their eyes when the Womens' Committee members cried at his funeral. I felt utmost pity for this man. For everyone has misunderstood him. His aim was not to fulfill some self-pleasing goal, but rather for the good of the act itself. He found the one thing in life that was not thrown upon him by a meaningless body and instinctively sought to act it out, his curtain-closer in life.Yet his achievement was buried, overwhelmed by the bureaucracy's need for self-affirmation. To make itself feel useful. But to think along that line will be to defeat the purpose, isn't it. Regardless of its ends, his act was self-justified.
In the face of his act, such bickering seem meaningless, pointless. Indeed, in the face of death itself such acts will bear no meaning. His act will shine on its own, one that bears absolute value. Those who only see relative value in his act are misguided, fooled by the illusion that bureaucracy can direct them to any meaning at all.
They embody cowardice. They refuse to break away from the bureaucracy because that's all they have ever known. Perhaps they too need to face death to see the temporality of their lives. So that they may truly live.
WARNING: SPOILERS
The Protagonist, Watanabe Kanji, is a faceless minor bureaucrat in the Public Affairs division of the local government. He has spent the past 30 years working the same job, but as the narrator puts it:
"He is just wasting his time without really living his life. In other words, he's not really alive at all."
His family consists of him, his son and his daughter-in-law. The son and his wife does not really seem to value Kanji at all. They talk about using his pension and savings to buy a house for their own enjoyment. They say that "if he refuses to give us the money we'll just move out anyway!" The absolute value of Kanji as an end-in-itself, a human worth treating equally, is eroded; what is left is a commoditized Kanji, one that only has relative value because he is valuable as a means. A means for the son to satisfy his own desires and ends. Kanji's life was spent locked in the bureaucracy; even when his son was having an operation, he couldn't be with him until the end because "he had some things to do", again showing the trappings of work and bureaucracy. This notion of utilitarian commoditization within the bureaucracy will come back later in the story as well.
Upon his realization that he was afflicted with cancer, he immediately realizes, unlike poor Ivan Ilyich in Tolstoy's novella, that death was unto him like a spectre. He withdraws 50000 yen (a substantial amount in post-war Japan, I presume) with an intent to spend it, an act of reaffirmation of his life. Yet it hits him that he has absolutely no idea how to spend it, since his whole life was spent mired in work. He meets a writer in the bar who tells him (and later shows as well) that pleasures and indulgences are the only ways to tear himself away from the suffocation of work. Here the themes of life and meaning surface again. How should we live our lives? This question was not answered by pleasures in Kanji's view.
He meets a subordinate from his department outside who was looking for him to sign her resignation letter. She struck him immediately; she represents to him everything that he is not. Happiness, fulfilment and like he says later on: "You are just so full... of life." He desires to live truly like he sees her to be doing, and he finds out she quit the bureaucracy to work at a toy factory. "Making toys makes me feel like I am playing with all the children of Japan."
He then realizes that he had been doing it wrong: it was too late to change his own life, but perhaps he could still change the lives of others. He then remembered a project that the Womens' Committee had tried to propose but was truncated in the perverse loop within the bureaucracy. Public Affairs says it is the Engineering Department's Job, who says it's the Parks department's job and so on.
He tries his best to advocate for the project, and finally the project is done: A toxic cesspit was cleared to make way for a childrens' playground. He dies contented in the playground when internal hemorrhaging kills him.
Now it seems like a happy ending now, but the last part was acted out at his funeral, and his death tale told through the mouthpieces of the various co-workers in the bureaucracy. In the face of his family and relatives, the Mayor concludes in a cynical tone that Kanji's role in the park project was minimal, that it was all due to the auspice of himself and the Park / Engineering Department. The yes-men nod in agreement. What else can they say? They begin to fight over who's to bear credit for the park, forgetting or deceiving themselves that Kanji had little to no influence in the playground even though he was the one who fought through the bureaucratic inefficiency. Indeed, one man even proclaims, proudly, that "Kanji was from the start a Public Affairs man. How DARE he try to build a park. He's ignoring the bureaucratic demarcations!"
Yet, for all their self-righteousness, they were unable to look the women in their eyes when the Womens' Committee members cried at his funeral. I felt utmost pity for this man. For everyone has misunderstood him. His aim was not to fulfill some self-pleasing goal, but rather for the good of the act itself. He found the one thing in life that was not thrown upon him by a meaningless body and instinctively sought to act it out, his curtain-closer in life.Yet his achievement was buried, overwhelmed by the bureaucracy's need for self-affirmation. To make itself feel useful. But to think along that line will be to defeat the purpose, isn't it. Regardless of its ends, his act was self-justified.
In the face of his act, such bickering seem meaningless, pointless. Indeed, in the face of death itself such acts will bear no meaning. His act will shine on its own, one that bears absolute value. Those who only see relative value in his act are misguided, fooled by the illusion that bureaucracy can direct them to any meaning at all.
They embody cowardice. They refuse to break away from the bureaucracy because that's all they have ever known. Perhaps they too need to face death to see the temporality of their lives. So that they may truly live.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
The Catch-22 of our Army.
To complain about the chain of command about your superiors, you need to go through the chain of command. sheer, god-damn genius.
Friday, November 2, 2012
thoughts / problems.
there are so many problems in this world, the more I think about it. And the fact that I am forced to view this perfect disaster from the eye of the storm just makes me feel so fucking useless.
Some problems are so deeply entrenched, people no longer see them as a problem. Lacking historical insights, people continue to worship these fetishes, as though nothing has changed for the past millennium. They worship their wealth, their material goods, as though that is all that is good for them. They act in blind pursuit of Progress, but not once did they stop to ask: Progress for whose sake? We end up chasing Progress for Progress's sake, at the cost of the people. Who benefits? No one asks. They merely chase the goal as told. Told by who? Not parents, not friends, but the oppressive weight of the society.
Some problems are so big, people refuse to act. People wait for some illusory Other to act on their behalf, and blame anyone but themselves when crisis strikes. Their own foolishness send them to the maws of bankruptcy and social collapse but they find themselves the victims. The need to blame rests the burden not onto themselves but to everyone else. I am not at fault. They are.
But the real problems, the problems that I care about, are those at the intersection between Humanities and Science. Science can explain everything natural, but what happens when we find out that we too are natural? Can science explain us away in terms of molecules? Can science explain away our politics and society? Knowing what Science can and cannot do is the first step towards advancing the current state of knowledge, where scientism, not Science, has begun to blur the line. Through subterfuge, ideologies mix in with facts, and the populace consumes. There is much concept clarification to be done, if only everyone adhered to such maxims.
But I guess we can start solving problems one at a time. One small step at a time.
For now, to solve the problem of sleep.
Some problems are so deeply entrenched, people no longer see them as a problem. Lacking historical insights, people continue to worship these fetishes, as though nothing has changed for the past millennium. They worship their wealth, their material goods, as though that is all that is good for them. They act in blind pursuit of Progress, but not once did they stop to ask: Progress for whose sake? We end up chasing Progress for Progress's sake, at the cost of the people. Who benefits? No one asks. They merely chase the goal as told. Told by who? Not parents, not friends, but the oppressive weight of the society.
Some problems are so big, people refuse to act. People wait for some illusory Other to act on their behalf, and blame anyone but themselves when crisis strikes. Their own foolishness send them to the maws of bankruptcy and social collapse but they find themselves the victims. The need to blame rests the burden not onto themselves but to everyone else. I am not at fault. They are.
But the real problems, the problems that I care about, are those at the intersection between Humanities and Science. Science can explain everything natural, but what happens when we find out that we too are natural? Can science explain us away in terms of molecules? Can science explain away our politics and society? Knowing what Science can and cannot do is the first step towards advancing the current state of knowledge, where scientism, not Science, has begun to blur the line. Through subterfuge, ideologies mix in with facts, and the populace consumes. There is much concept clarification to be done, if only everyone adhered to such maxims.
But I guess we can start solving problems one at a time. One small step at a time.
For now, to solve the problem of sleep.
omnom / being Singaporean
I spent the last night queuing overnight for Carl's Junior's offer: first 50 people gets 1 year worth of Carl's Junior, and I got it! OMNOMNOMNOM.
Now the more interesting phenomena is what goes on in these queues. As a first-timer I had thought it'll be as easy as waltzing in early and waiting for food to be placed in your hands. But as it were, the whole event is an exercise in being Singaporean.
There were rational voices, who advocated a system of registering names (we were forced to wait outside because of management miscommunications) on a list, so we can have a "legitimate" first 50.
There were also people who didn't know of it and went directly to the store to wait, forming the "alternate" queue. When security guards told them to move, they adamantly refused. Now, I understand how you feel when you realized you queued for nothing, but this fear of losing is really amusing. Then there were further cases when the legitimate and alternate queue ultimately met, and a few angsty guys just shouted unintelligible scoldings on us, as though we were at fault for being there first.
Now, these are just a minority, but as the emptiest vessels made the most noise, you can expect a general air of disdain for the whole event after a while.
Also, the return of the stereotypical Angsty Angry Old Woman. Yes. I assure you, it's not as rare as it seems.
All in all, an exercise in Singaporean-ness for those who did act that way, and an utter let-down for the more respectable members of society who just want to get on with their free food and life.
Now the more interesting phenomena is what goes on in these queues. As a first-timer I had thought it'll be as easy as waltzing in early and waiting for food to be placed in your hands. But as it were, the whole event is an exercise in being Singaporean.
There were rational voices, who advocated a system of registering names (we were forced to wait outside because of management miscommunications) on a list, so we can have a "legitimate" first 50.
There were also people who didn't know of it and went directly to the store to wait, forming the "alternate" queue. When security guards told them to move, they adamantly refused. Now, I understand how you feel when you realized you queued for nothing, but this fear of losing is really amusing. Then there were further cases when the legitimate and alternate queue ultimately met, and a few angsty guys just shouted unintelligible scoldings on us, as though we were at fault for being there first.
Now, these are just a minority, but as the emptiest vessels made the most noise, you can expect a general air of disdain for the whole event after a while.
Also, the return of the stereotypical Angsty Angry Old Woman. Yes. I assure you, it's not as rare as it seems.
All in all, an exercise in Singaporean-ness for those who did act that way, and an utter let-down for the more respectable members of society who just want to get on with their free food and life.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
back. / thoughts of being, in summary
I am back from taming the beast called Emotion, and am now ready once more to step forward!
my philosophical/pseudo-philosophical thoughts will all be dumped at http://pseudo-philosophicus.blogspot.sg/ from now on.
this will be where I dump less relevant, irrelevant or angsty stuff.
oh golly, it's late. why not talk about existentialism.
---------------------------------------
There are so many people out there who claims to be unable to do what they want, because someone said this, someone said that. Then when they die they tell people they regretted not doing as they wished.
But the power of choice lies in you. Financial constraints are arguably the only real constraint on what you can or cannot do, and even that is rather arbitrary. When you do as others tell you to, are you really respecting them and deferring your opinions? Or are you simply afraid to do as you want because it will be "against the norms"?
As long as it's not anything immoral (i mean it in a philosophical sense, not what stupid social norms and law-fearing imparts on us), why not?
Think about all this in the context that there will be no afterlife. There will be no miracles beyond this life. All that is, is this life. Will you throw it away and live your life in Sartrean bad faith? Live in the shadows of what others tell you to?
People fear the loss of absolute meaning, the teleological meaning by which they can claim to come to be. But are we really just fearing that freedom from absolute teleology instead? That there is no one to tell us what to do with our lives? With no meaning conferred upon us, it means that we are free to forge our own meanings in this absurd world.
Ultimately the choice lies within you. If you so desire to shrug it off and say "well, I had no choice!", then it's your choice. But when you regret before your death, what are you truly regretting? That you didn't have the chance to do something, or that you had the chance and you chose not to do it?
my philosophical/pseudo-philosophical thoughts will all be dumped at http://pseudo-philosophicus.blogspot.sg/ from now on.
this will be where I dump less relevant, irrelevant or angsty stuff.
oh golly, it's late. why not talk about existentialism.
---------------------------------------
There are so many people out there who claims to be unable to do what they want, because someone said this, someone said that. Then when they die they tell people they regretted not doing as they wished.
But the power of choice lies in you. Financial constraints are arguably the only real constraint on what you can or cannot do, and even that is rather arbitrary. When you do as others tell you to, are you really respecting them and deferring your opinions? Or are you simply afraid to do as you want because it will be "against the norms"?
As long as it's not anything immoral (i mean it in a philosophical sense, not what stupid social norms and law-fearing imparts on us), why not?
Think about all this in the context that there will be no afterlife. There will be no miracles beyond this life. All that is, is this life. Will you throw it away and live your life in Sartrean bad faith? Live in the shadows of what others tell you to?
People fear the loss of absolute meaning, the teleological meaning by which they can claim to come to be. But are we really just fearing that freedom from absolute teleology instead? That there is no one to tell us what to do with our lives? With no meaning conferred upon us, it means that we are free to forge our own meanings in this absurd world.
Ultimately the choice lies within you. If you so desire to shrug it off and say "well, I had no choice!", then it's your choice. But when you regret before your death, what are you truly regretting? That you didn't have the chance to do something, or that you had the chance and you chose not to do it?
Thursday, June 28, 2012
muses
do too little, and they say you aren't trying.
do too much, and they say you are overbearing, trying too hard.
amusing way the common mind works.
do too much, and they say you are overbearing, trying too hard.
amusing way the common mind works.
Friday, June 22, 2012
thoughts
there must be a division between the instincts of nature - passion, emotions, feelings, desires and all things common with animals - and the capabilities of human intellect, namely the capacity for reason and will.
Reading moral philosophy is enlightening - slowly but surely it is dragging me out of nihilism. Sure, there still isn't much of meaning in life, but the pursuit of the Good has got to be the most valuable enterprise in this meaningless life; to pursue the Good for its own sake, not for any power but simply because any rational man must pursue it. Reconciling definitions of what is "Good", however, takes more effort: Aristotelian ethics and Kantian ethics provide two really different conceptualizations of the Good, yet I think/feel that something is missing.
My nihilistic conceptions of society has not yet faltered. I still believe that such ideals are impossible to be carried out in flawed humanity, but at the very least I shall try for myself.
Reading moral philosophy is enlightening - slowly but surely it is dragging me out of nihilism. Sure, there still isn't much of meaning in life, but the pursuit of the Good has got to be the most valuable enterprise in this meaningless life; to pursue the Good for its own sake, not for any power but simply because any rational man must pursue it. Reconciling definitions of what is "Good", however, takes more effort: Aristotelian ethics and Kantian ethics provide two really different conceptualizations of the Good, yet I think/feel that something is missing.
My nihilistic conceptions of society has not yet faltered. I still believe that such ideals are impossible to be carried out in flawed humanity, but at the very least I shall try for myself.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
exist.
I wake up, finding myself strangely out of place in my pajamas and all; I'm in a field, with roses and lilies lolling in the light spring rain. The hills ran ad infinitum, and the great expanse of nature overwhelms my senses. Such beauty! I take a breath, and I can feel my soul instantly rejuvenating. I feel so young again, like all those aches were just illusions. All the stress at work, all the angst from relationships, all the loneliness - blown away by the spring winds. I pranced, became a jog, became a sprint down the hills. I am alive! Such wonders reaffirm my existence; I exist for this, not for my work or my love or anything else; I exist because I can, and I will! But as I proclaimed my existence, I remembered a distant dream; some undone work, unpaid taxes and bills, failed relationships - it all began to manifest.
A dark lightning struck across the panorama. The landscape shattered. The hills tore apart like a ripped painting, an abandoned artwork forsaken by its anonymous artist; The light spring rain became a summer storm; The roses wilted, turned black, died. The winds roared, no longer on my side. My world shook violently as it fell, crumbled to pieces as always. I did what I could to protect myself, whenever my reality collapsed - I went to sleep.
I am in a dream, and the alarm clock rings 7 o'clock. I went by boring routines like brushing my teeth (why am I even dreaming of such mundane things?) and washing my face. I wore what every man in society wore - a suit, tie, black leather shoes - and went down to hail a cab. At the crossroads I brushed my shoulders with this young man - he did remind me of my younger self - and went to my workplace. How many years has it been, and how many more years shall I stay here? Does not matter, must work.
I sat down, and began to start work. Pan out and you'll never even realize I exist. I exist because I must, because I am. I am but a cog in the Machine.
I can't wait to wake up to my beautiful reality again.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
blank
words loaned are all I can muster,
a mind of void, empty and cold.
plucked wildly, ideas without luster,
so to fill up this empty soul.
a mind of void, empty and cold.
plucked wildly, ideas without luster,
so to fill up this empty soul.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
a prophecy.
Am I seeing the present, or looking into the future?
The present is but a prelude to the future, and it is not hard to access the eventual fate of an event given that there are necessary conditions available.
I see all these, but my mind is too plagued by sloth to do anything to change this eventuality.
I see the end, I see the friends, I see nothing more than unhappiness and sadness.
But that is not a completely undesirable thing.
I see all these, so I feel the pain now, before it has already happened.
So eventually when it does, I won't feel so bad - maybe I might even feel relieved that it has finally occurred.
Of course you can say that this is a self-fulfilling prophecy, but I guess that is just how I am now.
When all you have are bad experiences, you really can't psych yourself for any good things to come by.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Happiness
Joy is uplifting, but not for me.
a plague that haunts, wherever I be.
All things that live, it did pervade
but I remain in my own charade.
"Come to me!" I shouted out,
in childish hopes it will bear some clout.
Alas the gates shut down on me.
Happy? I shall never be.
a plague that haunts, wherever I be.
All things that live, it did pervade
but I remain in my own charade.
"Come to me!" I shouted out,
in childish hopes it will bear some clout.
Alas the gates shut down on me.
Happy? I shall never be.
Two Parts of One.
Everything is perfect. I stand at the edge of the cliff right over a majestic blue dragon, the great river that dominates the region. Flowing serpentine across the pastoral hills and majestic mountains, it was awe-inspiring to say the least. I glance at all that surrounds me and see nothing but the great work of Nature. I indulge myself in the stunning view. The scenery of the beautiful countryside flowed into me uncontrollably as I soak in the awesome beauty of Nature. Nothing can go wrong now. I am held in Nature's warmth and glory. I can almost feel a catharsis surging from within.
Only to be stopped by an abrupt thought: I realized that I was alone, and nothing could be beautiful anymore without you. Everything was perfect.
lovely poem on the mortality of men.
"I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away". "- Ozymandias, Percy Bysshe Shelley
"I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away". "- Ozymandias, Percy Bysshe Shelley
Evanescent
I stand at the busy crossroads once again, amidst the busy pedestrians with their busy schedules and busy lives.
One man in suit and tie brushes my shoulder. "Sorry." he said, before hurrying off, presumably to his workplace where he will work at until his life force has all but escaped from him. He is not alone. They are all over the streets; people who are nothing more than puppets of society, mannequins without souls. Their eyes were lifeless globes of void. There is no drive in those eyes - that drive has long since been devoured by the beast called Conformity. They work not towards anything, not for anything, but simply because they have to. I see it all, and wonder why more people are not seeing this. This is the zeitgeist of our society, a dead droning hive-mind moving towards nothing, striving towards nothing, but Thanatos. Gone is that brilliance of ages past, replaced by nihilistic hedonism and cruel realism. The self blurs in the backdrop of modernity.
Will I stand down, let the beast devour me? Or will I take my stand, my last stand perhaps, and battle? For all my heroism, I know deep down in the darkest reaches of my soul that someday I, too, will fall to the beast. I will succumb under the weight of Conformity, lose myself, and join them. Individual thoughts are never strong enough to face the will of the Crowd.
As the crowd at the crossroads continued to pass me, I felt my soul draining away. "It is the beginning of the end. I am joining this farce, and I wouldn't even notice soon enough. Very well, take me, you beast! Put the flames of my passion out!", I mused. I can already feel I fading away into We. My thoughts were slowly melding into the hive-mind. I felt myself disintegrating.
The crowd began to subside. The pedestrian lights turned red. I am alone once again. I felt my thoughts flowing back in. My evanescence began to lighten up. I could feel myself materializing again, breaking free from the Crowd. My existence is re-affirmed, yet my existence fades away. Society no longer recognizes me, but I do. I exist again, but We cease to be. My thoughts are my own, for now.
But in the recesses of my mind, I know. Someday, I will cease to exist.
I laughed as I mused and hurried off the crossroads.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Time
Touched my soul she already has,
slowly right beneath my skin.
Enfeebled my mind she already has,
crippling my thoughts til they wear thin.
Of life and death, She takes and gives,
She is chaos, a being of pure frivolity.
Of society and family, she tears and weaves.
She is order, the keystone for society.
She is Time, and she will never be mine,
never enough for any of our kind.
slowly right beneath my skin.
Enfeebled my mind she already has,
crippling my thoughts til they wear thin.
Of life and death, She takes and gives,
She is chaos, a being of pure frivolity.
Of society and family, she tears and weaves.
She is order, the keystone for society.
She is Time, and she will never be mine,
never enough for any of our kind.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Crossroads
she scans, stands still, finding her future,
a path, some road, leading her somewhere.
"where to?", she asks, there is no answer.
all lost, alone, middle of nowhere.
Wish
Wishing is futile because you are putting your faith into vessels. You can wish upon anything at all. Save the effort, stop wishing and start doing. No fairy godmother will come and help you out. No genie will appear to grant you 3 wishes.
I can wish upon my cup, my chair, my laptop, and it will be as good as wishing upon Jupiter or Odin. Wishing only becomes meaningful when you wish it upon yourself - when you start doing.
Why wish upon anything else, when you can will yourself? If the gods only help you when you help yourself, why not simply help yourself?
You are the only one who can give meaning to your life.
I can wish upon my cup, my chair, my laptop, and it will be as good as wishing upon Jupiter or Odin. Wishing only becomes meaningful when you wish it upon yourself - when you start doing.
Why wish upon anything else, when you can will yourself? If the gods only help you when you help yourself, why not simply help yourself?
You are the only one who can give meaning to your life.
memory
Does anyone remember those warriors who fought with all their might hundreds, thousands of years ago and died on the battlefield? Are all those farmers who pioneered the Agricultural Revolution still remembered?
Existence in a metaphysical sense is limited. What I am curious to inquire is in its human context; that is, the impression you make on the world.
Putting a spin on the good old "if a tree falls in a distant jungle and no one hears it, has it fell?" analogy, if you lived in a hut somewhere out in the distant jungles and no one knows of you, would you have existed?
The death of a human spirit.
He was just a normal boy who believed in ideals. If you tried hard enough, things work out for you. All he wanted was to be loved and to love. All he wanted was to do what he always wanted to do, study what he wanted to study. All he wanted was to be happy. He truly believed in fate, in all that magic and wonder it promised. He tried hard for what he wanted, because he believed that he can do anything as long as he tried. He loved with all his might, with all that his soul can offer. He believed in ideals, in beautiful things, and that they existed in this world.
Yet everyone he met were already tainted and corrupted by the forces of reality. They did not have that twinkle he had in his eyes. They believed not in true love, effort or fate. They believed in power, authority and the inevitability of the social structure. They simply had no time for ideals. All that they believed in was reality and tangibility. Foolish adults, he thought. There is simply nothing more beautiful than ideals!
He did not falter even in the face of such pessimism. He lived his life, continued to pursue his endeavors.
He continued to pursue the girl he had always liked. He tried to be her everything. He loved with all that his soul can muster and one fine day, he decided to confess his love for her. Surely, it will all work out? After all, that's what fairy tales always say. Try hard enough and the world is your oyster, no? He told her that he loved her, and she told him she was not ready. Fair enough. He waited. Days, weeks and eventually months passed. No news, yet he assumed she was still thinking. Foolish boy. Oh how surprised he was, when he eventually found out the sick, ugly truth of the world. Her friend told him that she now has a boyfriend. "You like her, don't you? Did you know that she is already seeing someone?" No, he did not. She had not said anything. He was waiting like a sitting duck, like a lamb to the eventual slaughter.
He continued to follow his academic dreams. He always loved his subject. He always wanted to study that higher level course in his school. Even though he was a plebeian, he tried, and he did well even though he joined in the class later. At the end of the year he did well, so he decided to apply for that course. He truly believed he could do it, since he had tried so hard. If only he had read the previous paragraph. Results came. Barely any plebeians got in. It was flooded with the high elites, those who live in a different caste. He did well, they did great. Their social standards were different. They had help from the gods, the real gods - the social superstructure - themselves. All he had was himself. Eventually he could not even go to his dream school, because he had no money - no power. As everyone traveled around the world sightseeing, all he had were his books and computer. He was alone, powerless.
The twinkle in his eyes was gone. Ideals are false. Ideals exist only to juxtapose just how ridiculous and absurd reality is. There is no perfect ending. Thee is no perfection. People get things not because they tried, but because they have power, because they were bestowed with predisposed assets. I believe not in true love, effort or fate. I believe in power, authority and the inevitability of the social structure. I simply have no time for ideals. All that I believe in is reality and tangibility. There is simply nothing uglier than ideals.
meaning.
they say that many of the stars you now see in the night sky, all their brilliance and beauty, are from stars that have long since died. All that is left is the light it once emitted.
When you wish upon a star, you are wishing upon something that is no longer there beyond a strong beam of photons.Your wishes are dead, meaningless, just like these stars.
To the fallen stars your wishes go, in the void your beliefs drown.
When you wish upon a star, you are wishing upon something that is no longer there beyond a strong beam of photons.Your wishes are dead, meaningless, just like these stars.
To the fallen stars your wishes go, in the void your beliefs drown.
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