Yes I belong to the Dragon Age. I’ve decided, given the complexities of installing and running; and actually playing computer games- ONLY FREAKING SHERLOCK PLAYS THEM.
Yes, MIT grads, the odd-self thought genius, the idiot-savants, they play computer games. You’re probably just playing the preview, if you thought otherwise.
The usual bunk- quit smoking & be happy with what you have & give to beggars but not pleaders & don’t grovel even to yourself & piss wine & shit gold blahblahblah. Banal list of promises to myself numbered an even fifty & as I tore them up I thought New Years’ resolutions are a confession that all along we know the fault of our unhappiness lies w/ us & not w/ others.
-A Fraction Of The Whole, Steve Toltz
I woke up today, heavy in the head, short on sleep and much too early. I clothed myself, preparation for the dessert which I work in. I steeled myself, shallow breaths deepening, each exhalation keeping its distance from the previous. I made a note to myself, a sort of New year’s resolution if you like(because we tend to look for significance and proper name for anything we observe): I shall not be agitated by the people I work for (I like to think, I manipulate them; but I’m quite aware my petty victories, go unnoticed.) because I’m about to ORD.
I failed miserably. I didn’t last half a day. A singular character with an extreme measure to potentate, and abuse civilities broke my resolve. He did’t merely break it, nor incinerate it, he made its existence invalid. It was a little like a supernova imploding in itself, leaving a dark gaping whole with nothingness, a nothingness which sucked in things and made it more nothingness. That’s what he did. That’s what his brusque manners (and I’m being civil here) and the lack of common courtesies did for my “resolution”. All out of the window.
The testosterone charged bit of me says: You dock him in the face. Aim a little lower, he’s short.
The office ribbing influenced bit of me says: You let a non-de script black car, with tinted glass but strangely ostentatious in its attempts at understated, knock him down as he crosses a road.
The meditative bit of me says: Breathe in…breathe out…breathe in…breathe out.
The meditative bit of me 10 seconds later says: BEAT THE STUFFINGS OUT OF HIM….Breathe in…breathe out….
The me, which is a totality of this says: We’d tell the stories about him, laugh at him, and win a couple points for making petty, biting, snide comments, which tend to converge alongside humour. Then, I leave. I ORD. Wasn’t that the whole point?
“He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.” -1984, George Orwell
There was once a boy, he escaped the common thought, he hoped, but a tough city beat upon him. The smog filled choked him, the sand rubbed him raw, he hadn’t a believe of his own, he strove for an ideal which was sold to him, he didn’t have a thought which didn’t pain him. He bled, he cried, he feared. He gave gave in, a bullet to the back of his head. Essentially, that is 1984. However, I like to think it wasn’t hopeless. The story was said, we read it, we wept for him, we felt maligned for him, we were chilled by him. So he didn’t die unnoticed, he died but people heard, saw and dreamt his dream.
This fills up, depending on the time;although lunch is in my yellow lunch box
I woke up at eight thirty. Took a long bath. Sat around in my room a little longer, just to complete a chapter I was reading the night before, when my eyes started to droop.
I had breakfast. Cereal, with strawberries and blueberries thrown in, swathe in the silky form of yoghurt. A glass of orange juice.
I had driving lessons, 3 hours of it. (2.5h into the lesson, my glutes started to cramp…the seat is uncomfortable.) The Afternoon sun, is a killer too, skin was parched, like the dried leaves, variegated, brittle and quite ready to flame. Ahh…but I forget: there was lunch inbetween the lessons.
I had a quick sandwich, tomatoes, slivers of cheddar, black pepper ham on a walnut loaf. A coke as well.
Then there was tea wasn’t there? I had chocolate cake with apricot ice cream. I watched Madmen while eating.
Quite quickly, there soon was dinner, which I ate alone. Everybody else seemed to have an engagement. It wasn’t too lonely. There was Ray Charles; grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and a garden salad(not from my garden, although the basil did come from my garden). I had a glass of Baileys (incidentally, the coffee version is not as good as original) and I washed it all down with water. I chose not to eat the fondant. I had a piece of chocolate.
It dawns on me then, the difference between a working day and the start of my pretty long break from work, really is not what I do so much, as what and how I eat. I spend much more time eating now, and I enjoy it.
I never took stock of the belief, by which one is distanced from his faith by not attending church/hanging around people who are of the same faith. I subscribed to the idea that it was internal. I was having a shifty of a thought the other day and realised perhaps I’m wrong on both counts.
While I don’t doubt my faith, and I believe it to be strong still, in that it is the philosophical basis for my existence. (Although formal philosophical thoughts would inform you that it is faulty logic to have religion as a philosophical basis) However, I have noticed, I don’t have the same God influenced aspect of life. I think carefully, about mentioning God, about attributing things to him. I am more guarded with the concept of God in public. Personally, I don’t find my mind falling unto God as much as it did previously. The former could perhaps be allayed by excuses revolving around notions of being more sensitive to public opinions. Perhaps that is true, but at the same time, it seems almost apologetic. It does seem also, that by being “sensitive” I am consigning my believe into storage, slowly becoming a grey dead idea.
I guess its being in a surrounding that is more predominantly secular, different from school. Or although probably not the best conclusion, but one that appeals to me, begs me even and really is the only reason I wrote this in the first place:
Because the office I work in, is God forsaken.
Some of the best things in life, seem to be repeated so often, and is so simple. A nice leather couch to lounge on, a good book, and something to nibble. I spend a good portion of my off day doing just that. Put up my leg, sank into the couch, and just read under the warm ember lights. Occasionally, reaching out to the side platter for a chocolate digestive or a sip of tea. Amazing really, how in the thick of it all, it is so easy to refocus and get away from all the hectic nonsense of an ordinary work day.
In fact, I was just thinking, as I read, how I needed to update this blog. But more importantly, how I can easily choose to withdraw from the rubbish hand that is dealt to me at work. I was inspired too, to write a short story based on an episode of Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children. I’ve yet to start, but have got an idea. If all goes well it should resemble the style of Rushdie’s own works in East West.
Maybe one day, I could retreat from the world into writing literature, instead of reading it. I’m not too sure if I’d like that. I do know however, that I like a good cup of Darjeeling and Chocolate digestives.
ORD is coming closer. Its pretty near. Its like the perpetual grasp, the one by which you almost reach, but never do. The one that quickly becomes forgotten when you reach. Each day passes slowly, time seems to have distilled, now viscous and unflowing, it dribbles through, the hourglass remains a constant. Putting aside the agony of the last few days, my thoughts have recently gone to the chaps who ORD before me.
Its bitter sweet really. On one hand, I’m abysmally(the word was most concise) glad that they are finally getting out of this cesspool. The other bit of me, feels alone, vulnerable, knowing that there is one less survivor on the Island. This feeling, is not one that is easily comprehensible. Contrary to popular snitches of conversation, and bar side knowledge, it isn’t “something everybody experiences”. There is a sense of inordinate timing and relation involved. When previous batches left, I never felt this way. The feelings were always simple. It was easy to, shake his hand, pat his back, look him in the eye and wish him luck. Even, at the sadistic plays of “when do you ORD?” It was with ease that I shrugged my shoulder and replied “one year, but then again we serve the same time”
Now, its cuts at the soul. It feels a little like betrayal, this buggers leaving 2 months early. There can be no reason, to fault them, and the heart doesn’t, the deepest recesses of the mind doesn’t. The shallow, pain receptors call for it. It makes me look inside myself and ask fundamentally, “am I evil?”. To which I answer “no”. I never act on the darkness do I? I still cherish these people, I don’t feel the tinge when with them, but when alone, the bitterness lingers.
Its easy enough to understand. Its like going for a run/swim: Alone, you set a distance, you complete it and then leave. With a friend, you probably could go above that set distance, then you leave together. However, when your friend leaves before the pre-set distance…you just don’t complete it either.
The experience now, is the same. I watch my friends leaving, climbing out of the pool. My legs however are being pulled down, by the lead weights of conscription. I wish them luck, then I struggle. Its been like this for a long time coming. Not for me, but for the people before me.
The promise of greater things, the promise of a warm shower after the cold swim, that keeps me going.
It starts with a good friend, a Christian one asking “what is the purpose of our existence”. I thought easy question, for $500, my final answer is b.) to do God’s will. I expect the lights to swivel and flash on and off, and irritating trade mark music to play, and for the $1000 question to be asked. It wasn’t.
He probed “what is God’s will for us then? How would we know? What if there isn’t any will behind our existence?”. I knew I wasn’t playing “Who Wants To Be a Millionaire.”. Too hard, the questions.
I had an answer, an answer that probably would infuriate the atheists and answer that doesn’t really provide satisfcation and a smug grin, but an answer that allows me to subscribe to b.) to do God’s will.
Its simple really: We can’t know. We believe in it by faith, and that faith is our choice. Is it made by logical reasoning, this choice? I would have to say no. Is there logic in this choice? Yes. I am not saying that there is conflict in my faith and logic, I am saying that often we make decisions out of faith, even if there is a logic that we had not considered at the point in making the decision.
I dwell however, into why I think we ought not to question too deeply whether there is any meaning behind our existence. In my faith, I assume we are here to do God’s will. Bearing this assumption, I am able to function, and carry out my work in believe that I am carrying out a divine will. Should I choose not to believe this, then why do I live? Much cleverer people then me have asked this question. Often, the crux of existentialism is emptiness. I believe, none have come a compelling answer, to continue our existence, that is apart from God. However, there is a path to follow, if we take this route. In the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, a wise teacher searches for the meaning in life, and he proclaims all things “meaningless” till his conclusion where he decides that “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.”(Ecclesiastes 12:13)
This is biblical reference to existentialism. In fact, it seems almost the simple answer. Yes, this reinforces my believe, that we are here to serve god’s will. Also, it is right that quoting the Bible to support my point, is a logical flaw. I know nothing else however, that is not however to say that my argument is without merit.
Consider now, the alternative. That we ought to question God’s will, and being unable by reason to understand an underlying will, we dismiss God’s intentions and then our believe of Him. This would I believe, be the popular route for atheist arguments. (without going into the specifics of the arguments). I refute this by asking that consideration be placed into the concept of divinity
I ask that it be pondered that we as human’s without perfect understanding cannot begin to comprehend the expansive and complex logic, paradigm and dimensions of divinity. As such, we cannot possibly comprehend God’s will, and so by virtue of not being able to comprehend the logic system that may exist with Divinity, we cannot conclude that God’s will is illogical.
This consideration of course follows that there is no solution then to what God’s will is. It fails to conclude into the understanding of God’s will. Perhaps that is exactly what I hoped to derive. If we return to my original point that we cannot know, then we would find I have resolved this, that I have shown that we cannot know. Since we cannot know, I believe we ought not to dig desperately and blindly to everything else, in hope of an answer but instead rest in the peace that is faith. Just as the wise teacher did in Ecclesiastes.
ps: I can see how this piece would infuriate the atheist among us. However, it is not my aim to disprove of atheist reasoning or to expound my faith in the lingua franca of non-believers, logic.
I came down for breakfast and I saw the headlines of the papers. It read ” more than 1,000 feared dead in Indonesian Quake.”
I could not help but feel a little downcast. Its getting rather difficult to understand just why in a short span of time everything is crashing around us. The Samoan earthquakes and tsunamis, the Philippines’ typhoon which has moved on to rack further damage in South East Asia and now this earthquake. Its getting rather depressing. However, we must hold on to hope. and have faith.
And he changeth the times and the seasons: he removeth kings, and setteth up kings: he giveth wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding:
-Daniel 2:21
I guess football brings out the basest in us men. But for all the Tevez haters:
Who’s that twat from Argentina?
Who’s that money grabbing whore?
Carlos Tevez is his name and he hasn’t got a brain
And he won’t be winning trophies anymore
