When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, the result is, well, for lack of a better word, impelling. Tonight, this happened, and then, after a few seconds, the tiniest fracture took shape in my belief. Making dreams reality, is going to be less trivial now.]]>
A more experienced friend told me "Do what is right, not what is easy". This is, without a doubt, a sentence that once thought about, provokes deep inner conflicts as to what constitutes easy and, perhaps even more importantly, what is right. Being right, is it just a mental rouse to justify a raw human emotion or is objectivity really achievable? In my experience, making mundane and ordinary decisions are much more difficult than those that are extraordinarily heroic. Rest in Peace Rick.]]>
I have contrived to see beyond the immediate, to hang on to a notion of a future full of dreams. I have dared to dream and I have been punished beyond my capacity for it. Still at times, I feel clairvoyant and with that clairvoyance always, and always, comes sadness. Where are the surprises, where are the mysteries and where is romance?
I tend to think of logic as the most versatile tool to solve moral dilemmas. It disentangles the complex web of moralities to fundamental concepts of logical and illogical. However, occasionally, there have been situations, where I have not felt comfortable with the solutions that I found; even though I could firmly support those solutions with logic. Perhaps what the best known icon of logic said in "Amok time" applies to these cases, and the solution though "illogical is often true".]]>
The lazy afternoon sun shines through the half open Georgian sash window and the rays play a game of hide and seek with the shadows of the crumpled sheets on the bed. The cigarette between my fingers burns slowly and the smoke creates pieces of art that are never captured. The tantalising vocals of “the great gig in the sky” lure me away from the present and invite me to daydream. ... And suddenly your touch; that exquisite sensation of your skin against mine; brings me back to the present. I have a feeling that I won't be longing again. 
Love is a bridge that allows souls to cross the chasm between bodies. The question is how long a span can it have? “I prefer to have you around for when I need you.” she said.
“Then I shall make it my job to be needed” he said.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” he thought.
“I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” she said.
“Love hurts and that everybody knows.” he said.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” he thought.
“I am not really in love with you.” she said.
“Love is nothing but mutual kindness between individuals.” he said.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” he thought.
“Then I’ll try and decide one day to be kind to you.” she said.
“When is that day going to be, my love?” he asked.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” he thought.
“I’ll do it eventually, why do you care when?” she asked.
“There are no thanks for a kindness, which has been delayed” he said.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” he thought.
The size of problems is just a matter of perspective. For one, hesitation of a beloved in answering a question, they believe to be essential, is a matter of life and death. For another, their father’s indiscretion, in a momentary betrayal of their mother’s honour and trust, is the worst possible unsolvable problem imaginable. Yet another believes that being lonely is the bleakest event that can happen in one’s life. Let us not forget that from the lichen’s perspective all these and moreover the entire human civilisation does not even qualify as a problem. We have just been a recent mild annoyance that will disappear soon.
Moralities have often been a controversial subject of debate between intellectuals. Most of those who agree with morality in principle agree that upholding promises is moral. I beg to differ; promises are just a feeble excuse to demonstrate one’s belief in morals without any commitment. Personally I have yet to see someone hold on to a promise if it is not to their advantage. Why do we need such pretences? ]]>
Life is the monotony of moments between two events: birth and death. Regardless of how many battles one wins or loses, how many beds one shares, how many tastes one tastes or how many hearts one breaks, this inevitable certainty, blatantly and mercilessly reminds them of how futile and vain their happiness, sadness, loneliness, pride and self-confidence is. I propose, as I have done once before, to bring grace and beauty to our perspective; to refuse this bleak vision of futility; to embrace the notion of endeavouring to be better than what we really are; to believe and to love. Otherwise we are just seconds on the clock, waiting to be ticked off.
So it has been said. Life looks so promising after overcoming an ordeal. Lest we forget how short time is and how many great and wonderful things are waiting to be done.
When is a matter, a matter of principal? Do principals apply only when something is important? In my experience I have often found that practicing upholding principles is usually more difficult when the subject is not very important. This I've noticed is where preferences are as powerful as principles and the temptation is stronger as the damage to one's idea of oneself is quite limited.
The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, or so does the Chinese proverb say. The first step is of course dramatic and life changing. The question is what drives one for the four hundred twenty seventh step. There have been many steps before that and there will be many after it in a seemingly endless procession of monotonous events. The answer might lie in having a very short memory and no future vision, just taking the step for its own sake, at its own time.
So insignificant is the human history compared to that of the planet, the galaxy and the universe. Yet we have managed to become our own worst enemy. In an existence threatened every second by a minute change in the cosmos, and that is under the assumption that time itself will continue to exist, we now have the power to extinguish the faint flicker of our race. Everyday we play dangerously with the tools like children. I really hope that through some miracle or more likely a nearly impossible series of miracles we succeed in growing up.
Elevated levels of anxiety, tired bloody eyes, irregular heartbeat, vain hand gestures, checking the clock every second, analysing probabilities that are far too small, reminiscing about the good times, going through trivial activities that ordinarily would be deemed as too boring, reorganising the file structure of the computer for the fifteenth time today, craving a cigarette that is never going to be smoked and in the end lying in the bed hoping for a dreamless sleep because of sheer tiredness. Anticipation is rarely logical but always very human.]]>