I love questions. I love thinking about questions; how I’d answer them, what the answers might implicate about me, about the world that I live in. I ran into a fun question recently that I really enjoyed deliberating.
Here’s the question (the origin is at the end of my meandering).
The secrets of this world are many. Who do you share them with?
a. Those who have embraced the truth.
b. Anyone who can pay the price.
c. My blood alone.
A couple of books I’ve picked up recently haven’t settled well with me so I’ve been deliberating over the reasons why, and even whether, to give up on a book that I’ve started. There are so many books out there to read that sometimes it’s difficult to tell, even from a recommendation, whether any particular piece is worth the time. Not everybody reads the same way. I know some who read very quickly, scanning over certain aspects of a writer’s work that they are willing to forgive, while other readers may take their time, are very careful to examine every passage, every sentence, so certain details are important. In some cases, though, maybe there’s some mysterious element to the book that can’t exactly be pinpointed, something non-specific, but that leaves you a little dissatisfied. Do you slog through to the end, give the work its merits, and move on from a less than satisfactory experience to another hopefully better one?
[3] CommentsHow necessary is it that deception define our lives? Even if not the defining factor, why is duplicity so predominant in our dealings with one another, contrary to the morality and ethics that are held with such high regard, that if someone operates on such a manner of truth they’re looked upon as outside of the norm? If it’s about a “way” that things are handled in our interpersonal interactions, then which is right, and which is wrong? I know those are some very leading, rhetorical questions, but I have such a perverse tendency to entertain these types of notions. There’s a root problem here that I’ve been struggling to understand throughout my life; that is, the simple acceptance by many that “the way it’s done” is the only “way” regardless of how fundamentally fucked up that “way” is. I’ll start with a soft example, yet one which is pertinent to the lives of many. Job searching.
Consider that a vast, border-less continent has been discovered, and colonies are already being established. People emigrating from their hereditary homelands to this new continent in the hopes that they might be able to get a hold of a plot for themselves. Families form, and neighbors begin to create bonds by sharing in the resources that this new land has to offer. I imagine that’s how the North American continent looked to the original colonies several hundred years ago. The people considering that they must have endless opportunities in the new land that they were struggling to cultivate. It wasn’t just the colonists that recognized the potential of this new territory, however, the establishment also wanted to control the new land and its citizens.
[1] CommentsConsider an intersection. This could very well be the type of intersection where you give your immortal soul over to the devil. It could also be the type of intersection where you wind up with your jaw wired shut, and eating through a straw for six weeks. At this intersection, two types of traffic meet and negotiate. On one side of the intersection is an automobile. It has an internal combustion engine that operates primarily on fossil fuels, and which is controlled by a human operator. On the alternative side of the intersection is a bicycle. The bicycle has far fewer working components than the automobile, requires no fossil fuels whatsoever, and is also operated by a human. Each of these means of transportation have their benefits. The automobile can move farther distances faster than the bicycle and can carry much greater loads. The bicycle however, offers integrity of health for the operator, and while there is some monetary requirement to the maintenance of a bicycle it costs absolutely no money whatsoever in order to operate it. Each mode of transportation is a completely viable option, and each method has economic differences.
Why don’t we yell anymore?
As children, we used to yell all the time. We would scream for just about any reason – hunger, misery, joy, whatever. But for reasons that I can’t quite get behind, as we grow beyond adolescence we’re taught that yelling is bad. Why? What’s wrong with a good solid howl every now and then? If you’re about to give the argument that it’s not calm, then take a look around at the world that we live in and wake up to how calm human beings really are. Another popular rebuttal is that it’s inappropriate. Farting is also considered inappropriate, and yet it’s a natural necessity of our physiology. Yelling is just as startling, doesn’t smell bad after you’re done, and with practice can be just as entertaining. Now, I’m not necessarily condoning running around shrieking all day long like an idiot, but if that’s your dig, man, go for it. At least we’ll all know when you’re heading our way. I’m thinking more about the occasional burst to purge the frustrations that are compressing inside each of us. After all, that’s what children do, and yet we don’t heed their example. We were given a natural means for release, and yet we’re taught not to use it.
[1] CommentsI’ve been confused, and often times frustrated by the way that writers have been throwing around gender specific pronouns with wanton disregard for making any sense with their language. The most blatant example of this that I have encountered recently has furthered this frustration.
[1] Comments