had a discussion about judgement last night
don't even know where to start.
it is within human nature to judge i suppose. in fact, i do believe judgement is what separates homosapiens with the other creatures. Theological or not, we are created with a distinct awareness of ourselves. This consciousness of our existence also allows us to realise we are a factor to the macrocosm about us. The choices we make influence a fabric of reality beyond our immediate being, it affects not just the physical world we are in, but most definitely other individuals. one of those first things we probably did wrong as dumb little kids was to not realise that. who knew if you decided to pee all over uncle sam, he'd be pissed? Forgive the pun-- but then if given that choice i'd still pee on Uncle Sam if i could get away with it.
oops.
Point is, we don't yet realise how we could affect others- that is, until we find out that others affect us too. If Uncle Sam pissed all over you (like he's doing to just about everyone now), i'd think you'd be rather upset. so maybe ala carte urinating can't be too good. ;)
take a bit of a thought-jump, and it might bring us to realise where judgement is rooted. Discerning wrong from right, evil from good becomes an organic education. The bible laid down the commandments, society lays down the morals and pompous polititions lay down the law. These judgements of human choices and actions in life base themselves on universal pretexts of what should be good for others in general would probably be good for the individual.
one way to look at it, seems like we're brought up in a world that insinuates the instinct to judge. Beyond the basics aforementioned, we're starting individually to judge others for their worth, status, appearances... and, once in a while, we might even consider their personality.
Is that a good or bad?
who am i to judge that? without judgement, without rules or principles, society degenerates to a state with as much civility as the animal kingdom. even so, all morality and ideals stem from rather unrealistic absolutes. Judgement, whether we'd admit it or not, draws us to decide towards a conclusion in the black-or-white. anybody would be a fool not to realise we teeter consistently on the in-between, as well as the contradictory. Grey areas plague us everyday, and i guess it gets easier to be apathetical and cynical to it all than to constantly try to tell ourselves we were wrong amd have to reevaluate our preconceptions about somebody. It doesn't get any easier when people know enough to present themselves to ease you into a favorable judgement.
but i digress. who gives a flying fuck about all anthro-apologies.
i got smacked in the face in that discussion. somehow, it seems like i always believe im right.
personally, i find that one of the biggest insults ive had the fortune to be stabbed with.
i do not, at any moment, believe whatever i say to be universally right or true. im not quite that much of an idiot.
au contraire, i live knowing ive been wrong with so many things in my life. one thing i know i'm right is that i never am. i learnt about myself the best way- which is the hard way. it is not self-doubt, self- deprecation, or self-conscious that i cross-examine myself constantly. because there simply is no 'self' here worthy of any recognition.
and in that line of thought, i consciously refrain from placing judgement on anyone, without first doing that to myself. and after that, its simple maths to realise i am absolutely in no position to judge.
i always believed the best judgement you ever make is one made against yourself.
i know my fuckups, and i know very well my own problems. and i always try not to give voice them until i've resolved it with myself. Ultimately, who gives a shit about the trip-ups of a fool?
and it becomes excruciatingly frustrating when someone comes along the way and tell me i don't know im wrong. even a fool learns not to lift his head after he's been smacked in the face so many times. especially when i was once dumb enough to think that turning the other cheek was actually a good solution.
how far have you looked into yourself before saying that to me?
if you really did, you'd know you wouldn't say anything remotely like that.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Monday, April 18, 2005
S.O.L.= Stasis or Limbo?
i had to repeat this story till my jaw needed axle-grease.
definitely not something im proud of. but then pride had always been the demon i loved mocking. so lets have it.
got charged with two military offences as of friday. Something about inappropriate usage of property and disobedience of general order. the thing about how language works in any law book, even one as inane as the army's, it so fucking vague anything u do can fall well into its impact crater. what really happened should be a fable for all kids of adam and eve. don't eat that tasty fruit, or you could cause the end of the world.
digressions aside.
got called back for a saturday duty in the guard house. its 24hr borefest so people think of ways to entertain themselves. i brought a book and a coupla cds. i was done with the book by lunch. i didnt have anything to play the cds with. so i trooped down to my office and fished out the laptop and brought it back to the guard room. The process is a lot more complicated, involving keys and signatures, but lets not bore with the details. Lets just say i processed the key without the signature. so me and the guys there played music for the day. i packed the laptop and hid it away from view lest anyone thought silly ideas. they proved to be my silliest idea yet though. The next morning's handover was a fucking mess. and i had to trot back and forth around camp like a mad hatter to get things settled. that is absolutely no excuse for completely forgetting about the laptop, but thats just wat this fucking fool did.
i forgot.
i booked out in a flair of dramatic irony, in a state where nobody saw the laptop and nobody knew where it went.
monday came and passed. i was on course on the other side of the island, when this side panicked over the possibility of a breach in security. some ninja apparently infiltrated the camp, entered a secured office and left with a laptop, without a trace. i was oblivious to that until saturday evening when someone called and asked if i knew where it was. so there was me in the impact crater, wondering what hit me. 'holee shit. its in the guard room. i completely forgot to return it.' this was after the camp already alerted the higher commands about that darn ninja.
long story short. i got drowned in shit. they found the laptop where i found it and everythings intact. but the possibility that it could have been stolen or that it could have been a real ninja, or that the ninja could have worked for al qaeda is the shit im drowning in. so i got charged. In their defence, it could be considered a severe breach in security. i most definitely did make a humongantus mistake. i gave a lotta people a lotta trouble.
and i really really could have been a evil terrorist. im evil enough, i just forget things too often for osama to trust me.
disclaimer: i seem to be making too light of this entire thing. but i need a momentary timeout from kicking myself between the thighs. 'you are your greatest enemy' was a saying i took to heart long ago. and its become an obsession. times like these i get fantasies of hara-kiri with a charred stake, digging my own innards full or burnt splinters with my own useless hands. nothing suicidal, u understand, thatd be far too easy a backdoor.
mom and dad finally realised what i meant when i told them i've already said to myself whatever they wanted to say to me. i know myself well enough to know which buttons hurt the most when pushed, so lets just. keep. pushing.
didn't want to make her cry. i know parents need to get it out of their system, to say something when we fuck up, to somehow punish us. whether by pain, emotional blackmail, financial blockades or just mental torture. to make it seem like they're doing their job. to make them feel like they won't make anymore mistakes with this fucked up loser of a son. i understand, i let them say it.
but one thing that snapped me, is when they say i dun seem like im guilty, or repentant. that i don't know the gravity of the problem or that i don't care. i keep a straight face, but i do give a fuck. i AM disappointed in myself, i AM extremely pissed at my stupidity and i absolutely appreciate my worthlessness thank you.
at least now you know.
i was facing 10 days in DB. i was already resigned to that fact, up till the point i marched into the CO's office in the dead of the night. When he read the sentence to be 12 days of SOL, i must've been a little too surprised to react. i had mumble a reaply after being jabbed by somebody.
Its 2 days more, but its a lot more lenient a sentence. At least i get to type all these down.
i know i got a lotta people to thank. ppl spoke up for me where least expected. i'm still stunned. and im thanking them still, not in so many words, because there are better ways to do so.
but one thing my parents wanted of me were words. they wanted me to thank god.
come to think of it, i might have mouthed those words, but seldom have i truly said it.
so um
owe ya one, Pops.
________________________________________________________________________________________
sta·sis
n. pl. sta·ses
A condition of balance among various forces; motionlessness: “Language is a primary element of culture, and stasis in the arts is tantamount to death” (Charles Marsh).
lim·bo1
n. pl. lim·bos
Word History: Our use of the word limbo to refer to states of oblivion, confinement, or transition is derived from the theological sense of Limbo as a place where souls remain that cannot enter heaven, for example, unbaptized infants. Limbo in Roman Catholic theology is located on the border of Hell, which explains the name chosen for it. The Latin word limbus, having meanings such as “an ornamental border to a fringe” and “a band or girdle,” was chosen by Christian theologians of the Middle Ages to denote this border region. English borrowed the word limbus directly, but the form that caught on in English, limbo, first recorded in a work composed around 1378, is from the ablative form of limbus, the form that would be used in expressions such as in limb, “in Limbo.”
definitely not something im proud of. but then pride had always been the demon i loved mocking. so lets have it.
got charged with two military offences as of friday. Something about inappropriate usage of property and disobedience of general order. the thing about how language works in any law book, even one as inane as the army's, it so fucking vague anything u do can fall well into its impact crater. what really happened should be a fable for all kids of adam and eve. don't eat that tasty fruit, or you could cause the end of the world.
digressions aside.
got called back for a saturday duty in the guard house. its 24hr borefest so people think of ways to entertain themselves. i brought a book and a coupla cds. i was done with the book by lunch. i didnt have anything to play the cds with. so i trooped down to my office and fished out the laptop and brought it back to the guard room. The process is a lot more complicated, involving keys and signatures, but lets not bore with the details. Lets just say i processed the key without the signature. so me and the guys there played music for the day. i packed the laptop and hid it away from view lest anyone thought silly ideas. they proved to be my silliest idea yet though. The next morning's handover was a fucking mess. and i had to trot back and forth around camp like a mad hatter to get things settled. that is absolutely no excuse for completely forgetting about the laptop, but thats just wat this fucking fool did.
i forgot.
i booked out in a flair of dramatic irony, in a state where nobody saw the laptop and nobody knew where it went.
monday came and passed. i was on course on the other side of the island, when this side panicked over the possibility of a breach in security. some ninja apparently infiltrated the camp, entered a secured office and left with a laptop, without a trace. i was oblivious to that until saturday evening when someone called and asked if i knew where it was. so there was me in the impact crater, wondering what hit me. 'holee shit. its in the guard room. i completely forgot to return it.' this was after the camp already alerted the higher commands about that darn ninja.
long story short. i got drowned in shit. they found the laptop where i found it and everythings intact. but the possibility that it could have been stolen or that it could have been a real ninja, or that the ninja could have worked for al qaeda is the shit im drowning in. so i got charged. In their defence, it could be considered a severe breach in security. i most definitely did make a humongantus mistake. i gave a lotta people a lotta trouble.
and i really really could have been a evil terrorist. im evil enough, i just forget things too often for osama to trust me.
disclaimer: i seem to be making too light of this entire thing. but i need a momentary timeout from kicking myself between the thighs. 'you are your greatest enemy' was a saying i took to heart long ago. and its become an obsession. times like these i get fantasies of hara-kiri with a charred stake, digging my own innards full or burnt splinters with my own useless hands. nothing suicidal, u understand, thatd be far too easy a backdoor.
mom and dad finally realised what i meant when i told them i've already said to myself whatever they wanted to say to me. i know myself well enough to know which buttons hurt the most when pushed, so lets just. keep. pushing.
didn't want to make her cry. i know parents need to get it out of their system, to say something when we fuck up, to somehow punish us. whether by pain, emotional blackmail, financial blockades or just mental torture. to make it seem like they're doing their job. to make them feel like they won't make anymore mistakes with this fucked up loser of a son. i understand, i let them say it.
but one thing that snapped me, is when they say i dun seem like im guilty, or repentant. that i don't know the gravity of the problem or that i don't care. i keep a straight face, but i do give a fuck. i AM disappointed in myself, i AM extremely pissed at my stupidity and i absolutely appreciate my worthlessness thank you.
at least now you know.
i was facing 10 days in DB. i was already resigned to that fact, up till the point i marched into the CO's office in the dead of the night. When he read the sentence to be 12 days of SOL, i must've been a little too surprised to react. i had mumble a reaply after being jabbed by somebody.
Its 2 days more, but its a lot more lenient a sentence. At least i get to type all these down.
i know i got a lotta people to thank. ppl spoke up for me where least expected. i'm still stunned. and im thanking them still, not in so many words, because there are better ways to do so.
but one thing my parents wanted of me were words. they wanted me to thank god.
come to think of it, i might have mouthed those words, but seldom have i truly said it.
so um
owe ya one, Pops.
________________________________________________________________________________________
sta·sis
n. pl. sta·ses
A condition of balance among various forces; motionlessness: “Language is a primary element of culture, and stasis in the arts is tantamount to death” (Charles Marsh).
lim·bo1
n. pl. lim·bos
Word History: Our use of the word limbo to refer to states of oblivion, confinement, or transition is derived from the theological sense of Limbo as a place where souls remain that cannot enter heaven, for example, unbaptized infants. Limbo in Roman Catholic theology is located on the border of Hell, which explains the name chosen for it. The Latin word limbus, having meanings such as “an ornamental border to a fringe” and “a band or girdle,” was chosen by Christian theologians of the Middle Ages to denote this border region. English borrowed the word limbus directly, but the form that caught on in English, limbo, first recorded in a work composed around 1378, is from the ablative form of limbus, the form that would be used in expressions such as in limb, “in Limbo.”
Friday, April 15, 2005
orbital dysfunk
you left on a roadtrip.
spinning on a beeline, trying to gather enough velocity to be thrown off that orbit you weaved with so much toxic dust.
you hitched on so many rides you never thought you'd be on.
Maybe they know where they are going. Maybe you did, maybe you had a map. But you rolled the pieces with tobacco and smoked it into harsher lungs, and flushed the rest down the drain with as much intoxication.
maybe if you throttled fast enough in that plastic spaceship, god would find more competent toys to play with. While stocks last. Batteries not included. Each sold separately.
And after all that, hey, the air suddenly smells familiar. A little devastated by tsunamis of carelessness, yes, but that washed up blanket is the same one you woke up from. Yesterday, or two months ago.
you're right back on the other side of the same place.
you have a new suitcase of masks and cosmetic lies. They are better painted by a more practiced brush. we could keep them. we should.
shut up. don't worry about that.
how the fuck do you lie to yourself if you don't know who you are.
shhhh.
if the last two months were any indication, you still have that much of yourself to murder.
sitting down, with your closest friends and a choice intoxicant, you find yourself pathologically unable to unearth the the troubles and hitches within you. How do you untie a self-binding knot in the blind?
Still can't get past thinking that your problems are only yours to deal with. Your insecurities are secured behind a lock whose key you swallowed. Still refusing to admit you're too bloodied from the punches you threw yourself every single night. Arrogant in knowing how you nip any possibilities of pride in the bud with that blunt rusty knife. Indulging shamelessly in the ironies of you.
So why put all these in words now? One thing you know, your words know you better than you know yourself. And perhaps if you wrote in second-person perspective, you could displace yourself enough to spell things out. And perhaps if your allegories get convoluted enough, you'd still be encrypted in your status quo.
spinning on a beeline, trying to gather enough velocity to be thrown off that orbit you weaved with so much toxic dust.
you hitched on so many rides you never thought you'd be on.
Maybe they know where they are going. Maybe you did, maybe you had a map. But you rolled the pieces with tobacco and smoked it into harsher lungs, and flushed the rest down the drain with as much intoxication.
maybe if you throttled fast enough in that plastic spaceship, god would find more competent toys to play with. While stocks last. Batteries not included. Each sold separately.
And after all that, hey, the air suddenly smells familiar. A little devastated by tsunamis of carelessness, yes, but that washed up blanket is the same one you woke up from. Yesterday, or two months ago.
you're right back on the other side of the same place.
you have a new suitcase of masks and cosmetic lies. They are better painted by a more practiced brush. we could keep them. we should.
shut up. don't worry about that.
how the fuck do you lie to yourself if you don't know who you are.
shhhh.
if the last two months were any indication, you still have that much of yourself to murder.
sitting down, with your closest friends and a choice intoxicant, you find yourself pathologically unable to unearth the the troubles and hitches within you. How do you untie a self-binding knot in the blind?
Still can't get past thinking that your problems are only yours to deal with. Your insecurities are secured behind a lock whose key you swallowed. Still refusing to admit you're too bloodied from the punches you threw yourself every single night. Arrogant in knowing how you nip any possibilities of pride in the bud with that blunt rusty knife. Indulging shamelessly in the ironies of you.
So why put all these in words now? One thing you know, your words know you better than you know yourself. And perhaps if you wrote in second-person perspective, you could displace yourself enough to spell things out. And perhaps if your allegories get convoluted enough, you'd still be encrypted in your status quo.
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