One for the Shallow Side
Blog writing has become much like writing exam answers. The night before you know everything you need to know, while at the same time fairly sure you know nothing. Come morning you have such a rough jumble of things in a groggy head fresh from Charmed, putting down anything remotely resembling a structured thought pattern would far exceed the self-imposed miniscule time limit before the heat makes this laptops current usage position unbearably uncomfortable.
Is that better? Was that really better than saying the same thing in an 8-word sentence? I've grown to enjoy reading my blog once every year, just to see what sort of changes might be visible. And there's a remarkable consistency where I find I've written about the same thing in slightly different ways. But at the same time there's a large degree of contradiction. Views firmly held at one point found to be shallow and meaningless at another. Jumping around spitting with venom at the hypocrisy seen in the world, I cover my own under the thin veil of split personalities and flexibility. Were I to preach anything, I might have to hate myself. I is probably my most used word, but that's justified because this is my blog, and mine alone. My thoughts, open to no one who may wish to criticise them, or judge me for them. My blog, though, is forever an illusion. You can have a diary, or a private journal open to nobody. Here, in an open medium, to believe you write freely is self-deception, yet the revolution around I a strain of vanity not seen in the spoken world.
If I were to write based on facts, or to base my cynicism or hopes or professed views or disgust with life on specific events from my own life, then it would be more about my life, and in some skewed manner, a way in which those too far can follow what goes on. But I lack such structure, especially here. It weakens my views, analyses of life based on empty observation with no specific target. There is however the fear that if it were targeted, a concentration of emotion to any one structure might destroy that flexibility.
Ah, hahahahaha! What a lot of useless prattle. It took a 5 minute stare at the TV to lose whatever train of thought I was on. How dedicated I am...
For the sake of memory, because some late night or the other, I thought this would be a good idea, I should in fact get around to the subject matter. The book I'm reading has so many spelling mistakes, and it's by Raymond Feist, hmph. Somehow a life of leisure doing much of nothing overly physically active remains very fulfilling. And I finally received my Live8 tickets in the mail yesterday. But if I tilt my head just the slightest, I can shatter this illusion and see life for what it really is. Hogswaddle. No I can't. If I tilt my head a lot, turn it over, and make it spin (:p), I'll see things are wrong where they aren't. Life is good, but it's unjust, such is its way. More often than not, it is good for me, but that doesn't mean it is so for all. Ambition is a concept strange to the farmer who toils under the hot sun making just enough to feed his family. "The beggar by the river bank has that security kings can only dream of".
What's fashionable is to pick apart life before anyone who'll watch you do it. To drown in self-pity because all that there is in this world is happiness for those that are too stupid to see the true pain and ugliness, while those of use blessed with intelligence shall forever remain in a state of despair as we view the hurt and pain, the unending toil for nothing greater than a days meal while others work so much less for theirs. Then there are those even more intelligent, who look to their social equals, down their noses, with contempt. For how can they find happiness in this land, with their monotonous lifestyles, single-dimensional goals and... and... oblivious, something, outlooks... blergh.
While copying a lifestyle on disdains is perhaps not the most beneficial way to get by, nor is a life spent puzzling over mysteries impossible to solve and criticisms impossible to come to terms with. No matter how you choose to live it, dropping just a degree of vanity would enable some aspect of life to appeal in a manner that makes it bearable, perhaps enjoyable. Sifting through miles of blogs and journals over the last two years has shown a large number of people with the same complaints. But such birds shall never flock together, for they shun society and its flaws, considering only a select few capable of reaching their high standards. Misery loves company, and together they sit and ponder over the inequities. The worst part, though, is how they feel the same small joys yet refuse to accept them, because the wallowing in hopelessness has gone on so long, and fills with such a sense of hollow superiority, that to break free is near impossible. Long enough conversations can convince those less staunch that there is something wonderful "out there", others simply closed to such a possibility beyond the company of the intellectual elite. The elite though, is dispersed. Better to be happy with a mask of stupidity than miserable with you fishing line in an ocean inhabited by fewer fish than are good programmes on terrestrial television.
To be sure, I have often vacillated between both positions. Most often when alone with my thoughts, with my head balanced on the palm of a hand and my eyes swirling in their sockets. At other times it's simply too tiring. I'll never be consistent. Hence I'll never be able to pen thoughts in the bitter harsh manner of those who see life for what it truly is, nor shall I ever recount every detail of my life that fills my little heart with more joy than it can hold, for fear the overflowing cup might shatter. Tis not hypocrisy. At times it might be confusion. But for the most part, it's a mixture of acceptance, and acceptance again. Acceptance that life does, in fact, suck, and yet is also, the most wondrous thing, and to waste it in contemplation is to miss out on so much. No code will ever apply to everyone. Swinging around, ignorance is bliss, but ignorance can be created. E471 is a preservative with possible traces of animal substances, often derived from pigs. That ties in.
Swimming in the shallow side is sweet. The deep side of the pool is an adventure, but without those inflatable arm bands, if you stop kicking you might go down, and at any rate, you'll never touch the ground.
And I'll never know whom I'm talking to, but it's a sweet feeling nonetheless. Now that it's said, maybe I can think about something else ^_^
posted by Sindy Clawford @ 10:04 PM
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