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.

The Pleasure of Paranoia

What a wonderful thing paranoia is. Yes, we claim that it is unpleasant, but really it is stimulating. The panic and excitement is riveting, and then, when things get close to no return, one is suddenly saved by a reassurance. Paranoia means living on the edge. Even if others see your life as very normal or uneventful, you know that you are stepping close to a boundary line on a regular basis.

There is also the pressing question of truth that is a fundamental part of being paranoid. The argument with the accuser of “paranoia”, where they think you are without reason. Yet, you know that there is a strong possibility that you are right, and not paranoid, yet feel a certain hopefulness at actually being proved wrong, making what you thought to be true, in fact, untrue. The demand for proof from the non-paranoiac is met with the same demand, the latter always making a stronger challenge.

You see, the paranoiac is in a win-win situation. If they are paranoid, the problems they thought they had are not actually true. Also, with the acceptance of this status, they can relax and not feel guilty about it. “I am paranoid, therefore I am right to have these suspicions.” If the feelings and suspicions they have turn out to be true, then they have the satisfaction of knowing that they were not paranoid all along – the others were all fooled, but not this one.

Fragility

With a stretch I pull a muscle, with a gentle tap I bruise, with a sneeze my back tightens, with sex my legs ache, to be in close contact with strangers I catch their cold. To have a weak body can leave one with feelings of constant regret. ‘Why did I move in that position?’ ‘Why did I not protect myself more adequately?’ Not just regret, but fear of the future too. ‘What will life be like in 30 years with such a body?’

If one has a weak body, but is a genius, that is ok. “Well, his physical weakness added to his greatness.” “His suffering made him what he is, giving him the perspective that no-one else can have.” I am no genius though.

The problem with such physical weakness is that one accepts it as one’s essence, and thus nothing is done to combat it. Is the acceptance as this weakness as one’s essence not a sign of yet another, non-physical weakness? Weakness of the mind – what a combination to have. I do not want to delve into that. (Certainly showing the very weakness of her mind).