Day-Dream Believer

I used to believe that my day-dreams were just as important as living life, perhaps more so, as to an extent I was in control. I believed that to imagine something was as good as reality itself, as one could still take pleasure from it. I even convinced myself that these day-dreams were real. The problem was that not only were the day-dreams often very similar, but the pleasure was always a passing moment. So afterwards I often felt sad and depressed about it, and then believed I felt this way because I was back in the really real, physical world, without realising it was because of the falseness of the imaginary world.

Fortunately, I realised that these dreams were not pleasurable experiences, they were attempts at gaining power and control.

I still day-dream occasionally, but now have the capacity to interrupt it, and to see the dangers of living life in a day-dream. That is not to say that it is bad to let the mind wander - one must just be careful not to confuse two worlds.

A Secret Story

Some stories simply cannot be written, only spoken. There is a short episode that I have told to a few people, and decided to write it down, seeing as I have always had the response of it being such a nice story. However, on attempting to write it the story became as damp as the patch on my living-room wall. All the pleasantness from the memory of the episode, and even of my re-telling of it, vanished. So, reader, you will never read the story, nor will I ever disclose what story it is.

But I am not unhappy about this, after all, some stories cannot be told at all.

(The secret, then, is not the story itself, but which story it is that could not be written.)

Pictures of Pompeii

The progression of civilisation puzzles me somewhat, as with it we no longer have such beautiful floors.

Pompeii Floor 5

Pompeii Floor 4

Pompeii Floor 3

Pompeii Floor 2

Pompeii Floor 1

Living Cliché

Recently I looked in mirror and could see that I am starting to age. As I stared I thought about how quickly the last ten years have gone by, and how quickly the next would disappear. Realising how short life is, I thought to myself, "Why am I living my life in a way that I don't want to?" As if this thought wasn't depressing enough, I then thought, "I am full of clichés." That really made me feel bad.

(But perhaps clichés are the only thing that can be thought whilst looking in the mirror.)

Sign of the Times

A problem of the current times is that people believe that they can turn their hand to anything. The critic is a critic in the very broadest sense, moving from one thing to another with an ease that leaves one gasping. But the truth is that these people are not interpreters: they move with such ease because their hand merely polishes the surface they want to penetrate. Give them some building blocks and they will surely build an unusual looking object, but it would never cross their minds to take the single block and break it open.

When trouble begins...

I just realized that I have a fear of downstairs toilets.

I have a memory of sitting on the toilet in my home as a child, my feet only just touching the U shaped toilet carpet, and suddenly seeing an insect - a beetle or louse or something. I screamed and ran out, paying no attention to the circumstances of the act of using the toilet. My mother and siblings could not find the insect, leaving me knowing that it was there, hiding, waiting for me to be alone again. In the 15 years that followed I used the toilet upstairs, unless circumstances dictated that I use the downstairs one. In these few instances I would rush, ensure my feet did not touch the carpet, and rapidly move my eyes around the floor, looking for this insect to show itself. It never did.

Modern Times

I am coming to the conclusion that all paid work is the same. And that perhaps we convince ourselves that we are lucky to have employment that fully reflects our interests. Yes, I used to think that to have this combination is the perfection of life. Now I am beginning to believe that one should absolutely separate their interests from employment, so as not to poison the well of one's passions. Not that this will even remotely lead to fulfillment either.

NB: this is my current feeling, but is subject to change of employment.

Different Seasons

Yesterday I realised how much I love the different seasons. In the moment where one feels the season at its fullest, one is the happiest ever. But also the wonderful thing about the seasons is that one has the blissful memory of it, and one anticipates the wonders of the season to come. So all three temporal instances are of equal importance.

So everyone should get outside - this fullest feeling of happiness does not happen indoors.

Amor Fati

It really is true that when presented with the opportunity to actually change something about oneself, in particular, one's appearance, that very thing that one always wished one could change or 'correct'', there is the sudden realisation that to accept such an opportunity would be to alter something that is so inherently oneself, that this no longer becomes a dream but a nightmare. Well, that's how I feel about changing my teeth, anyway.