I'm back from the doctor's. No history exam tomorrow for me. Two day MC. Brilliant I say. More sleep's around the corner. The much needed respite's always welcome.
I was wondering today if the world would be a happier and simple place without reasons and reasoning; without the very art of substantiation and logic that grounds our faith in society; that restricts the mayhem and chaos from being unleashed, bounded by legislation.
I suppose it would be. We would do thinks as mindless beings, going about our daily routines because "we have to" and "we are told to do so". We do not question, but we trust in the system which governs our lives. (Why does this sound like I'm advocating totalitarianism ala V for Vendetta?) We lose our choice and free will, to relieve ourselves of the strain of thinking and perceiving. Is that an exchange that is worth it?
I don't know. Really. It was just a passing thought. But there are traces of the mindless drones carrying out their daily activities. As much as we like to believe that we have the power of free choice, it is actually restricted to a large extent.
Why do we go to school? Or to work? Why can't we go to School A one day and School B the next? Why must we take exams? Why do we have to do homework (or face punishment)? Why are we given parents whom we did not choose (no I am not advocating rebellion or for people to start ill-treating their parents)? All these point to the lack of choice, and the innate power of control that the system or higher beings have over our lives.
It is, scarily, quite apparent that there is little choice we possess in governing our lives. Our lifes are but pawn pieces in a game of chance played by higher beings, be it God or the system. Indeed, "ours is not to question why, ours is but to do or die".
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
Meaning and Significance
More musings, in the face of the highly insurmountable stack of revision notes / exercises to be done before my Math paper tomorrow. I'll be glad the day I can upload thoughts direct from my brain to my blog. Until then, I'll have to make do with creating notes and my handphone and uploading them here if I have the time.
We all know the effects of time, and the change that it brings. We all know how time clouds our vision of the future; we don't know what it beholds, and the past; we leave the memories behind and cloud them in the thickest fog conceivable only in our subconscious so we never see them again.
With all the changes brought about over time and space, the greatest impact is brought about in the changing of meaning and significance. Historical monuments from the past lose their greatness. (Who wants to preserve some ancient Aztec or Mayan temple of worship?) Nuclear weapons, once greatly feared all across the world, lose their significance as mass production begun; whether it be five thousand or five, they are enough to bring the entire world to its knees. We change presidents and governments every few years, and we forget the little additions into the state law, and any reformations that they may have brought about. We accept all these as a continual, inevitable part of life, and we move on not bothering to think back upon them.
It becomes worse when this is brought down into the little things in our lives. When the sunrise we see each morning holds no more meaning than our very next breath; when the people around us come and go without us knowing; when we accept that there will always be another tomorrow to make up for our lack of discipline and procrastination, we just lose the meaning and joy of life. It is indeed sad that things which once held such great altars in our lives can fade away into the sands of time.
I've learnt to treasure what I have, and not let time devalue the currency of importance and significance of the things in my life. I've erected my own altars, altars which commemorate the different events and milestones in my life, and they do not lose their value, simply because they are not physical forms. The world subjects everything to the value of the lords of wealth and prosperity, but existence is clearly worth more than that. I will not sell my soul, no matter what the cost.
We all know the effects of time, and the change that it brings. We all know how time clouds our vision of the future; we don't know what it beholds, and the past; we leave the memories behind and cloud them in the thickest fog conceivable only in our subconscious so we never see them again.
With all the changes brought about over time and space, the greatest impact is brought about in the changing of meaning and significance. Historical monuments from the past lose their greatness. (Who wants to preserve some ancient Aztec or Mayan temple of worship?) Nuclear weapons, once greatly feared all across the world, lose their significance as mass production begun; whether it be five thousand or five, they are enough to bring the entire world to its knees. We change presidents and governments every few years, and we forget the little additions into the state law, and any reformations that they may have brought about. We accept all these as a continual, inevitable part of life, and we move on not bothering to think back upon them.
It becomes worse when this is brought down into the little things in our lives. When the sunrise we see each morning holds no more meaning than our very next breath; when the people around us come and go without us knowing; when we accept that there will always be another tomorrow to make up for our lack of discipline and procrastination, we just lose the meaning and joy of life. It is indeed sad that things which once held such great altars in our lives can fade away into the sands of time.
I've learnt to treasure what I have, and not let time devalue the currency of importance and significance of the things in my life. I've erected my own altars, altars which commemorate the different events and milestones in my life, and they do not lose their value, simply because they are not physical forms. The world subjects everything to the value of the lords of wealth and prosperity, but existence is clearly worth more than that. I will not sell my soul, no matter what the cost.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Counting the Cost
I'm tired...
Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. It's a lethal combination. Really.
I feel like giving up. To just mess it up, to let go, to be ill-disciplined; to be all the vices that I strive so hard to flee from and disregard from my life. I feel like not studying, not preparing. The urge to deliberately rebel and submit a blank sheet of paper and shove it down their throats to pay them back is just pulsating through the very essence of my being.
But this is a system where they don't care. There is no individual, only the collective. We don't remember who failed or passed. Just numbers, figures, and statistics. We don't remember the highest PSLE, O or A level score from our school, just the grades and percentages.
Our very being is just so insignificant... so very insignificant.
It shocks me, and I don't know how I should respond. Someone came back yesterday. And it seems like so long ago when we last met. But everyone responds as if it was a given. What if nothing caused the person to walk back and turn around? What if he never saw the light of day again? Would we know, or care? I'm not free from this; I admit I do not try at times. And it's just so shocking. I contemplate the legacy (I think) I've built, and what would happen if I were to leave it all behind one day. No one would remember me, that I'm sure. Maybe for a couple of weeks, but nothing more.
I cried my heart out yesterday. I prayed with everything I had. I wanted to see him come back; to not throw everything away. We were close before he left, but I guess it's really sad that your space determines your relationships. When he left church, who actually bothered to keep in touch with him? I know I did, but at times I just didn't notice him anymore. And it saddens me. I prayed with all I had, because I felt so much. I felt his hurts and his guilt, and His Hurt. I prayed that His Love would come fill his life all over again. And when he was touched, I cried more because I knew You would never let him go, and You'd always take him back.
But really, who remembers us? Are we but heads on shoulders, two hands and two feet? Are we but numbers in the populace? We are five hundred strong. No one would see those leaving by the backdoor. We don't care about relationships. The space and condition comes first, everything else is about convenience.
The exodus draws nearer. And I'm going to give it all up soon, but not now.
Maybe when you read back, you'll realise I had once been there (if ever in your life) in that space we once shared. But my set moves on, and there's no longer the union and intersection. The space shares no overlap, and we move...
Maybe... just maybe...
Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. It's a lethal combination. Really.
I feel like giving up. To just mess it up, to let go, to be ill-disciplined; to be all the vices that I strive so hard to flee from and disregard from my life. I feel like not studying, not preparing. The urge to deliberately rebel and submit a blank sheet of paper and shove it down their throats to pay them back is just pulsating through the very essence of my being.
But this is a system where they don't care. There is no individual, only the collective. We don't remember who failed or passed. Just numbers, figures, and statistics. We don't remember the highest PSLE, O or A level score from our school, just the grades and percentages.
Our very being is just so insignificant... so very insignificant.
It shocks me, and I don't know how I should respond. Someone came back yesterday. And it seems like so long ago when we last met. But everyone responds as if it was a given. What if nothing caused the person to walk back and turn around? What if he never saw the light of day again? Would we know, or care? I'm not free from this; I admit I do not try at times. And it's just so shocking. I contemplate the legacy (I think) I've built, and what would happen if I were to leave it all behind one day. No one would remember me, that I'm sure. Maybe for a couple of weeks, but nothing more.
I cried my heart out yesterday. I prayed with everything I had. I wanted to see him come back; to not throw everything away. We were close before he left, but I guess it's really sad that your space determines your relationships. When he left church, who actually bothered to keep in touch with him? I know I did, but at times I just didn't notice him anymore. And it saddens me. I prayed with all I had, because I felt so much. I felt his hurts and his guilt, and His Hurt. I prayed that His Love would come fill his life all over again. And when he was touched, I cried more because I knew You would never let him go, and You'd always take him back.
But really, who remembers us? Are we but heads on shoulders, two hands and two feet? Are we but numbers in the populace? We are five hundred strong. No one would see those leaving by the backdoor. We don't care about relationships. The space and condition comes first, everything else is about convenience.
The exodus draws nearer. And I'm going to give it all up soon, but not now.
Maybe when you read back, you'll realise I had once been there (if ever in your life) in that space we once shared. But my set moves on, and there's no longer the union and intersection. The space shares no overlap, and we move...
Maybe... just maybe...
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