The world as I see it

diary time and other thoughts...


There was a ray of morning sunshine but it has now been covered with a thick layer of dullness promising more rain and it is cold. When will it be summer, I wonder? If I’m stuck in this town then at least give me warmth and sunny skies! Instead I’m stuck home watching the rain pouring down my window. 

There is never enough wine to numb the pain of living. No, actually living is the wrong word. I should say ‘thinking’. When one thinks too much they’re bound to feel pain. There are moments of blissful lucidity followed by a sense of helplessness. There is also the sense that you might be completely wrong in your reasoning and yet this makes you already different from the rest. People who do the best and the worst in the world always seem to have one thing in common: they think they know. They can’t be wrong. Even when they are. If there is one thing I understand now it’s that there isn’t a right or wrong answer, a black and white spectrum. There is only a grey area and only the best you, as a person and as a member of a society, can do. This is exactly what we need to understand, beyond the rain and the inward tears: do your best to the best of your abilities. If you can remain true to such a motto then you can’t go far wrong. You might still be mistaken in the end but your good will was there. there was a conscience.

On Politics and the endless spin on things

Prices keep soaring, especially stapple food, the basics. They keep talking about it in the news, they even gave the crisis a fancy name: credit crunch. That sounds way cooler than “corporations are thieves” don’t you think? How funny to think that the crisis intensified roughly one year before the Games in China and that as we approach the opening ceremony prices are going even higher... I mean, let’s face it,olympic games
cost a fortune, especially in countries still developing and already in debt like all the rest, and there are the rich fat cats coming to town that will need feeding... I like how politicians keep warning US of hard times ahead, yet the next day they give away millions, if not billions, they don’t even have to “help” struggling countries...I’d say nothing if only that money reached the populations that need it but it’s more likely to be used to build new bloody gold toilet seats for corrupt officials than anything else. There isn’t much to unveil diving into my void but I wouldn’t recommend that of people higher in the chain; there must be tons of skeletons half-buried down there. 

But hey, aren’t we, us poor sods, dispensable at the end of the day? Of course we are. The truth is every single person is. The difference is that for those in power, those who wield any kind of power over others, they have the option to become indispensable in the eyes of a majority. They can protect themselves from what they impose on us and because they are so far removed from our daily hardships they see us as little more than human cattle that can always reproduce to make up for the loss. In the greater scheme of life there is always a chain. Cats will feed on the fish and the birds, the lion on other herbivorous animals, maggots will feed on rotten food...We feed on many animals but just like we use a cow in many ways to our own benefit we use other people in pretty much the same way. A cow is a wonderful creation of nature: it produces milk and we can make so much out of it...Well, the same can be said of people in power over the little people. It makes me laugh that we fight viruses so much for they really are our most fearsome predators and boy are they resilient and adaptable! Viruses are a plague to humans just like humans are the virus of our planet. It only seems fitting that both virus and man always clash.

By the way, the price of bread- the edible kind- is now at least a pound and the cheapest one that used to cost barely more than 0.18p because of its rotten quality has now skyrocketted to over 50p... Pasta can be bought for no less than 78p when three months ago the same pack would have cost you around 40p max. The funniest thing is how supermarkets can now dictate what you’re going to eat for the week... How thoughtful of them to slash prices on selected products every now and then, meaning that if you were to go shopping on a restricted budget you’d end up buying whatever they have been kind enough to reduce in price. So last week I was able to eat cherry tomatoes, peppers, pizza, mushrooms...This week I might get apples, cucumber and whatnot, but cherry tomatoes will be back to their crazy price. It will be rather interesting to see what happens with meat, since they’re introducing cloned meat on the market that doesn’t even have to be labelled as such. They couldn’t honestly tell us because of course very few people would buy it. Call this democracy if you wish, I call this another sham. There is no such thing as democracy, there’s only an illusion of it, a word or notion that’s little more than an ideal. 

What we take for democracy is in fact an intricate propaganda machine that seems to give freedom from one end and take everything else from the other: that is NOT democracy. That’s taking people for morrons.

The truth is that if I don’t start playing the game I’ll end up losing anyway. I’ll remain a prisoner because I am poor. Poor people have no voice, not even in so-called western countries. Oh, they do feel sometimes like they have one but it is a carefully monitored stream of voices controlled from above. Who needs a God when we have puppet masters?

It might well be that what I am writing is grossly superflux but as long as it seems to teach me something it was never for nothing. I just can’t take anything for granted anymore- my mind simply won’t stand for it and will make me question until it all makes sense. I cannot just accept that I think one thing without questioning why or what lies beneath the end result that is that thought. I need to understand for myself HOW I got to think or believe one particular thing. To me the big test isn’t so much these very pages but whether I am able to write something as long as a book, a story in itself, that can actually stand up to scrutiny. These pages are indulgence to me, a place where I can let my mind run loose to follow any line of thought it fancies. They represent some sort of recycling bin in which I can empty the huge amount of constant reasoning from the silliest idea to the most elaborate and somehow avoid sheer brain overload, if that makes sense.

 That need to write so much is, I suspect, a mere coping mechanism that allows me to not only sort my thoughts out but also prevent overwhelming my own brain as it would otherwise lead straight to a major breakdown at some point. Honestly, just like an overworked machine. It would make logical sense that those who came up with the computer model based themselves on that of the brain itself. All that’s really missing from those machines is the human touch- feelings. Now that’s something we haven’t been able to create, something that would emulate feelings just as we experience them every day and that seem to make us so very human...And because we still don’t understand those feelings, why we have them, why they feel so much like some third party akin to a soul added to the body it is easier to end up believing in religions. And yet by doing so we elude the issue altogether, hiding behind an explanation even more complex to understand rationally and logically than the original enigma. So if I’m to attempt at least to get to the bottom of what makes us human and everything that goes with the question surely I should keep away from any other notion that only serves to confuse me further. If I can first answer issues surrounding the person- the foundations- starting from the very roots then I can move up to the next hurdle and so one. This way I minimise the chances for error in reasoning and I am more likely to find something right. No one should ever start with the question of religion or any of those massive notions before everything else. That would be skipping fundamental stages of understanding and of course the likelihood of finding any answer is greatly reduced. Fact. Learning is the pauper’s path. Remain humble and accept that you know very little and your mind will open up to new horizons, things that you thought you knew until it finally slaps you in the face and you realise that you never really knew until now.--

On the other hand I keep having doubts about the direction my story is taking: am I being too patronising, too much of a moralist at times? Am I writing too much beside the point, around the bushes, taking my potential reader for a morron? Yes, I think I do sometimes. I struggle with subtility and seem to spell everything out in case the message wasn’t clear enough and by doing so I threaten the power of suggestion, what makes a mind want to understand, curious. How do you make sure you don’t do that? How do you know you’re giving away just the right amount?? I’m still trying to figure that out. It’s pretty much like making a cake when you’ve never cooked before: how much raising stuff do you put in it exactly, knowing that if there isn’t enough it will go flat and if you put too much it will make your stomach churn...Here’s my dilemma, really. I can only guess and hope I have a good eye for measure, that my critical side will pick up on the problems soon enough. You can write, write, write but the real test is the finished product: is it going to be some cheap brand pack of rubbish or an expensive, rich texture kind of cake? The proof, I guess, can only be in the pudding, ah.

A blog about... philosophy

philosophy, logics and thoughts on politics...But also on the passion and struggles of writing

On writing and other things

The story to tell comes first and is all about inspiration, imagination and ideas. You have to find something to write about first, don’t you? Once you get an idea that stage is over and it would almost seem as the most trivial part of writing a story. However the truth is that it is one of the most volatile stages and one can spend years waiting for that idea to dawn on them. I should know. Once you get past that stage comes the physical side of things: the process of actually writing the story. It’s the most enjoyable part as long as you don’t get stuck at some point for whatever reason.

That’s when you escape into that other world and you get to know your characters as you shape them along the way. Sometimes they surprise you in the way they grow and they end up quite different than you intended. You just never know for sure. And then there’s the re-writing stage, filling the gaps, mending the holes, adding, editing... I don’t like it much, to be honest. It confuses me more than anything but the fact that you have to really think about every little thing means that what you change will be more thoughtful and hopefully better than before. So, really, writing is very much like painting. You can be rather liberal in the way you apply the paint on that canvas, using as much paint as you wish and splatter generous amounts of what will serve as a base, but once you’re done with the foundations the painting process becomes more and more intricate and precise until the final touch which requires a steady hand.

 I’m not that far from that last stage, although I’m aware of the style issue. I try to keep in mind the sound advise of showing rather than telling per se... I shouldn’t write that one is angry when I can avoid it, but use gesture or facial expressions or actions to show that one is angry...It is easier said than done, for me anyway. And then I need to stop taking my ‘reader’ for a dumbass...That is to say I keep explaning things in too much detail, as though whoever might ever read my story wouldn’t have the brains to understand... I think such difficulties stem from the fact that I’m my own editor and therefore I find it very hard to be objective enough to spot the errors. But then I don’t have the luxury of friends and I have noone I could ask to read the story... And it’s quite a brick to read, I can tell you. So... If I do ever manage to finish it completely whatever mistakes or clumsiness there are left should be judged with a hint of clemency since I would have had no second opinion whatsoever. That is also why I can never be sure that what I’m writing isn’t utter rubbish. But hey, I don’t seem able not to write so...

Mum said that once your mind is free, once you can truly think for yourself and analyse what is being said or shown then you find peace of mind no matter what happens. If she is able to see beyond the shams and illusions of our reality, especially through the medium of society, then it would explain why all the setbacks in her life have become a well of strength from which she draws even more stamina to keep going...

I’m not that courageous. I need to strike a balance between a free mind, one that has freed itself from comforting yet deluded beliefs and preconceptions, and my social self, the one that has been so brainwashed and conditioned that it seems intent to clash with my thoughts all the time. I’m a coward. I was going to say a mental coward but that would be the wrong choice of words here. It’s simply that one part of me longs for truth and understanding of myself and what is around that self, but the other half isn’t strong enough to deal with what such truth, the undiluted version of it, entails for the rest of your life when you can no longer ignore the harsh fact that there is only you, a biological entity born to die and what you do in-between is up to you- and the sudden understanding that the only true entities that can give you credit or adknowledge your work, even your basic existence, are the people around you, all the members of your species... I suppose it gives me a lesser pleasure to know that there is no higher meaning to what I write than the expression of a passion, perhaps a talent I have. The only ones who can give it a deeper sense or importance are mere mortals who may well choose to ignore it. I suppose what I’m trying to say, albeit clumsily, is that now I can see that there is no higher power, no mysteriously powerful God watching over me and that everything I do or do not do for that matter is up to me only. We are lucky in so far as we have the faculty to think logically and therefore we can give to existence the meaning or purpose we wish to give it and in that we should strive to find solace. I want my life to be more fruitful than it would be biologically. I don’t want to simply reproduce, find love, get a house in the suburbs etc... I want to write and understand as many things as I humanly can. 

The only strive one can rely on- and that is, to me, the most disapointing side of the affair- is that other people will aknowledge your work, for one single individual needs the input of others in order to instill meaning into whatever one does. If I were the only human being on Earth, for instance, what strive would there be for me to write anything at all? The need to write stems from the hope that you will be able to share your work or discovery with others, I should think. When I was still blind enough I used to ignore that fact and imagined that somehow I was at least writing for some higher entity or that the latter was tilting me in such direction. That was a deluded belief- a safe idea that kept me from confronting the basic truth of it all: everything has meaning in so far as there is another person to share it with. And then you look around and you realise that most people aren’t that bothered by what you have to say or want to show them. Who could blame them? I’d react the same way in their shoes unless what one has to show or say is in fact truly mind-blowing. The idea of religion was greatly appealing for it meant that you could overlook that harsh fact of life and remain in the comfort zone of conveniant beliefs. Now there’s only me and my choice of what I’ll do of that biological miracle that is my very existence. It is also at the core of human discord.

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09/06/08

There is a heavy burden to carry when one is able to see the truth for what it is. It’s also a tiring exercise most of the time and I have seen but mere glimpses of reality in its truthfulness, without the intricate layers of illusion and lies covering it. I don’t like what I’ve seen so far; in fact, I suspect that it would be far more agreable to ignore what lies beyond the things we see, what we think or what we falsly take for knowledge. I wonder: am I going against nature itself if one is to look at this exercise as more of an exception compared to what a majority of other individuals would do or am I in fact becoming more human for trying to develop the one thing that differenciate us so much from any other creatures- our faculty to think coherently and logically?

I shared my slight illumination of yesterday with my mother and, surprisingly enough, she understood what I was trying to say. She was amazed that I had come to understand certain things only now and that’s when I realised part of why she was the way she was. If anything, my quest isn’t such a random fancy I woke up with out of the blue but rather a predisposition either inherited from her or merely conditioned by my living with her all my life. Either way she must play an important role in the manner my thoughts are shaped.

I can no longer think without almost picturing lines and geometry within my own mind as though everything- absolutely everything- stemed from a logical base which you can hope to reach if only you can follow the threads often buried in messy knots. The game of following logical threads that lead to a deeper meaning of a notion or theory appeals greatly to me and although it makes perfect natural sense in my mind I fear that it would be almost impossible to explain how much of a joy it is for me.

The downside of logics, as I’ve felt before, is that it is one of the most ruthless tools for it will only show you bare truth removed from any other niceness we tend to wrap it under. It seems we have this need to dilute reality, especially what is simply the truth, in order to manage existence. It appears much akin to a necessary coping mechanism we use without even noticing most of the time but there are people who have perfected the art of masking truths so well that others cannot even start to look for the real thing even if they ever wanted to. It is slowly dawning on me that I might not be cut out for the truth; I’m just not strong enough as a person to carry such a burden, knowing that it means I have to chip away at the safe haven ignorance provides. Ignorance or indifference, for that matter. There are many who, far from being ignorant or lacking the skills to see beyond the shams, would rather remain indifferent. But then I’m only going to be alive once and I’ll only have that brain for a given time and what a waste it would be not to try everything I humanly can to uncover its secrets or the power it wields from within. Give me a pointless quest anytime as a substitute to the mere acceptance of what a person ought to be according to a majority that is ignorant enough to follow the pack blindly without questions.

What frightens me most is the leap between the relatively safe comfort of beliefs and man-made ideals which, I realise now, is more or less akin to endoctrination, and that of bare reality, where one can see that there is only the person and what that person chooses to do. Yes, I suppose what bothers me is mostly that from now on I can no longer delude myself into projecting a God in the empty skies or give supernatural meaning to anything I simply do not comprehend. The concept of a superman is very much in line with logics and man can only hope to achieve greatness and true self-reliance if he can shed away the weight of illusions behind which he hides. Having said that, and although I seem to agree with such a concept, it doesn’t do much to quench my inner fears of having to face a life where there is nothing else but me and the people around me. And logics. Out goes magic, and heavens, and hells and other lullabies created to either sooth the mind or as a means of control over the masses. Illusions and beliefs have been so deeply engrained in me that not only was it a monstrous hurdle to shed a big chunk away from my brain but it also leaves me with the conscience that what I am left with might well be glimpses of true knowledge but it doesn’t change the fact that such true knowledge is far less appealing to me than candyfloss shams I was used to for so long. It is worth it, no doubt about that, of course, but one must be prepared for a life of sober lucidity with no coming back to the safety of illusions...

If there is no such thing as a soul in a religious light then there must be at least two different parts that make up a person. I have been able to distinguish the one I define as the brain, the clockwork side of man, where logics and abilities lie. It is, I think, the most reliable part of us for it relies solely on logics and reaon. But then I have difficulties identifying the other part, the one we tend to listen to more readily and which is often the cause of our mishaps. If I am to follow that thread for lack of any better or clearer one, I would say that it is in fact the part we often call the soul, the heart or spirit. I tend to think that this other side is closer to what we call our personality or social self. The one that feels. Thus, I like picturing one side as an intricate clockwork, a living machine, whereas the other is flimsier, made up of social conditioning and experience and therefore it would make sense that the latter would be so keen to nurture prejudices, grudges but also attachment and preferences. I would call it the personality, which comprises feelings and social projection as opposed to the brain, or biological side, which, although there must be some degree of conditioning - the learning process, for instance- is better equipped to break away from such conditioning. I would also go as far as claiming from personal experience this time that it is man’s most reliable sidekick. The other side is, by its very nature, prone to bias and fluctuations and therefore more encline to follow changing currents of all sorts. Pretty useless when one is trying to see beyond appaearances, for instance.

Void is chaos

Void is chaos. Chaos is a blurred line between control and delusions. Delusions are a first step leading right back into that giant gap within the mind. Welcome to nothingness.

08/06/08

I’m afraid. I’m scared, terrified. Everything around me has taken the colours of blood, pain and evil murmurs. I am still me and yet my thoughts have lost grip of their coherence. I have no control left over what I feel or ought to feel and the same ideas, same thought patterns keep dancing before my eyes, no matter how hard I try to chase them away.

It’s a slow procession of illogical beliefs which have taken over my better judgement, and the more I fight against those wild elements, those figments of non-sense, the worse they seem to get. It is a very strange thing that is happening. I am very aware of those alien thoughts and while I remain the mistress of my self I can no longer prevent what can only be called obssessions. Obsessive thoughts that lead straight to imbalance. These pages will have no sense, I’m afraid, for they are my only means to reject such ideas away from my head.

Paranoia is also starting to overwhelm me and I am afraid of everything around and within me. And those thoughts won’t leave me alone. They won’t leave me alone. They won’t leave me alone. They won’t leave me alone. They’re very much my own thoughts; I am the one formulating them in my head. There are no outside voice or anything of the sort: it is me. What makes no sense to me is that I just cannot think of anything else and that scares the hell out of me. I had to stop writing as though I knew what I was doing because I fear everything I thought I understood merely stemed from obseesive patterns of thought. I thought my mind was free but it is in fact held in a cage and it can do nothing but turn like a beast prisoner of its own iron will.

Nothing much makes sense these days. I look out the window and see the shades of sky, from mournful greys to incandescent molten gold, and I see the world contained in one single tear falling from above, crashing onto the frozen ground and scattering its precious power.

I have no desires, no drive to do anything. I haven’t washed in days. My hair is greazy, my appearance foul. I wish it was a simple matter of snapping out of it all. But it isn’t, I’ve tried.

I feel like the devil is out to get me, I feel possessed against my better judgement. Can’t you see? I am trying so hard to rationalise what makes no sense in my head... I’ve lost it completely, haven’t I?

They say that if you were losing your mind you wouldn’t even know you had. I take solace in that only, yet I still cannot explain what is happening. If I am simply being silly, then why can’t I snap out of it?

For the second night in a row I felt scared as I went to bed and stared at the things around me, almost expecting- again, against my better judgement still present in one side of my head- something to happen. Religious beliefs have taken residence in my head, too. I want them out of there but they won’t buldge. It’s been months now. I made the mistake of sharing such crazed thoughts with mum and since then it has felt like I have somehow released a demon out of its cage. I made it all more real than it ever had been. I am afraid that the sound part of my brain might be losing power to the degenerate side... I can sense the fine line between the way I feel now and how easily I could slip further away from rationality if that happened.

I think I am evil and that I should die. It’s the only way to make everything stop. There is no other way. I should end it all before it’s too late. Before I lose it completely and can no longer distinguish reality from fantasy. Before the sound part remaining let go and I am left with no more logics or power to rationalise my thoughts and actions. I want to keep away from anything remotely religious for fear that it will only exacerbate my delusions. I need help. Yet every single person arond me believes that I am fine. they’re obviously not living in my head 24/7. I want out of that head just for a few days, even a minute. I want it to shut up for a moment, just a moment... I need rest.

I think the whole world is set against me and that the devil is trying to destroy me. Then there is my sound presence of mind that keeps telling me that this makes no sense whatsoever. First, what is so special about my person that the whole world would tire itself against me, and why would the devil, which is merely a metaphore for all things bad, go after me, the pathetic drop in the ocean?

I try to rationalise those crazy ideas and although I can see how illogical they are I can’t get them out of my head. That is my problem. No amount of rationaliation seems to be enough... Thus I am left scared and ambushed by my own self. I had so many things to write, such nice stories dear to my heart but how can I write when all this is happening in my head?

I cannot not believe in God, either. I keep agreeing with all those people who find logical arguments against its existence and yet I keep believing. Is that simply a glimpse of how powerful human conditioning can be? Blind faith that can never be erradicated... I am left thinking that perhaps I should destroy everything religious around me. There are pictures of Christ above the door and I find myself thinking that I should burn them, that it would liberate me. It’s a very appealing idea right now. Then I get that thought that if I did just that I would be giving in to what the devil wants me to do. So I should resist the urge. But how long can I resist when I feel so obsessed? I want to go to church, not to mass, but simply walk inside one and drop on my knees. But I’m afraid that it is all in my head and going there won’t change a damn thing. Worse, still, I would end up even more obsessed. It’s all my cousin’s fault and only now do I realise that mum was right all along. She had advised me not to go, warning me that every time she saw members of her family something bad happened to her. I didn’t listen and she said those things and now those things won’t leave me in peace. I need to snap out of it. If I could, though, I wouldn’t be writing this. I am doomed. Cursed. DOOMED.

Suite a 10.37am: Perhaps what is really happening to me is far removed from insanity and merely the painful stage of discovery that leads one to Enlightenment or Knowledge. I’ve had the logical understanding dawn on me slowly which is that one is to depart from comforting, man-made beliefs if they are to see beyond illusions, toward the wondrous fields of reason. Where men are strong enough to believe in themselves without the need of religious cruches. Where men can let go of fables and tales, hints of ‘deraison’ that feed the need for supernatural explanations whenever something lacks clarity or basic knowledge. The fact that I must let go of everything I thought I knew or took for granted is eating at the very core of my person and without the shams enveloping me like a feel-safe cocoon there is only me left with the rather cold and distant comfort of my brain as sole companion in my quest. My conditioned being finds itself threatened and therefore every last remnant of conditioned beliefs are heightened to a degree that feels close to insanity. My conditioned self is the one fighting against the process I put in motion. It is hanging on so hard and entering in such a violent conflict within me that I feel too overwhelmed not to be depressed. But my depression is my inability so far to process too deep a sense or feel of others’pain and what I can see is going wrong around me. Unless I can find a way or ways to reconcile every discovery I make for myself with the ability to cope or shoulder the weight of such discoveries I will not make it very far and will end up consumed by helplessness. I must find a way to put everything into persepective so that I can focus on the quest itself- not the idea of changing anything for I would need to reach destination before even attempting to venture solutions. In this I suddenly find solace again. It is shaky and weak and I could lose sight of this thread fairly easily, still... But if I could just focus enough!

Nobody said it was going to be easy to let go of everything you ever thought you knew... It is in fact more painful than physical distress. I might be playing a dangerous game with my own self but what else could life be about, honestly? There is only this life and I will have the rest of eternity or a black hole of endless sleep where nothing ever exists again to get my peace of mind. This existence will only last years against a backdrop of nothingness. Why should I be worried? Why shouldn’t I gamble my very sanity if there is nothing better to do? If living a blind life according to the rules of biology and man-made ethos morphed into a worldwide propaganda called Religion isn’t something I can do even if I wanted to, then I will go else where and wander till I drop. I must first be able to deal with the isolation, solitude and sense of weirdness my quest is sure to entail. If I fail to find a balance, to reach some sort of acceptance as to the concequences then I’m afraid my quest will be little more than a short trip to ‘derision’. 

All those thoughts, the religious obsessions...They’re still in my head but they are in fact the expression of the threatened conditioned part of me emerging violently as I attempt to break away from all that I do not know as true knowledge. I found the key! I FOUND THE KEY. Now that I understand why I’ve suddenly become so obsessed with beliefs that were in fact burried deep into the core of what make up my social persona I can focus on finding a balance or a way to make peace with it to resume my journey.

I am no evil entity, nor am I a devilish spawn, but my uncanny sensitivity makes me so aware of the ills around me that it morphes the compationate side into depression, the exacerbated state of helplessness one plunges into when they can see but cannot act.

Perhaps I am only turning in circles in vain, focusing on futile things everybody already knows about but they will be the futile things I come to understand myself, beyond the superficial sense that one understands even the simplest concept. I will no longer call knowledge what was handed to me unless I have made the effort to go through the steps that lead to that particular knowledge. Hence, it is highly likely that at the end of my own life I will know very little, but what I will have come to know for myself will be glimpses of true knowledge, away from illusions and erroneous steps leading to what I can only call ‘pre-fabricate’ knowledge. And even if this is all a waste of time and even if it leads me nowhere in the end I have a thirst for something that I won’t always have with me: my brain. It is the one true mystery of life and people waste time trying to comprehend the existence of god, a notion even more out of reach than any other mystery left for us to uncover! Why is it that, beyond logics, people seem so determined to find the answers to the existence of God and his so-called plans or purpose, when they don’t even know themselves? Is it because it is always easier to pick at something further removed from ourselves than finding the courage to face what is starring us in the face? It all comes down to ignorance which feeds our reliance on even more far-fetched explanations. I therefore must conclude that the question of god is irrelevant to man’s development. As I will keep digging beyond the surface of everything that is obvious and taken for granted I must expect more turmoil within myself...since I am my own guinea pig, in a sense. But hey, better be my own experiment than anyone else’s!

I suddenly feel so liberated!...Until the next hurdle, that is.

The world is governed by the rules of probability and chance ensued by the latter. Forgive my lack of clarity and wrong choice of terms when it comes to rather more scientific arguments...I am no mathematician nor am I a scientist, I only go with what seems to make sense. I believe in logics. LOGICS. The world is one maze of a jigsaw that looks very much chaotic at first glance, but if one is to take the trouble to look more closely they are likely to find that there is no such thing as chaos in the sense we understand or define the word. There is something that we see or can identify which we call chaos but haven’t we in fact given to the word a misguided definition?  We call chaos what is devoid of sense, what is truly random, an amalgam of randomness...here’s the dictionary’s definition, actually: “A state of total confusion and lack of order.”

But I claim that what we call chaos is little more than another mistaken thought on what we think we are seeing for what presents itself as chaotic might well simply be beyond our grasp.

And now : “Chaos theory is a scientific theory about situations that obey particular laws but appear to have little or no order.”

So, really a term like chaos has very little meaning and is a blanket word that covers aspects of what we cannot comprehend. But there must be order in the most chaotic shamble. As much as words like ‘all’ or ‘tout’ in French which I grew wary of very early on.

Because I believe in logics I must be able to see that everything around me -everything- follows some logical line and if I am unable to distinguish it from ‘chaos’ or nonsense then it is merely because I lack the understanding or necessary knowledge.

I grew bitter towards everything remotely mathematical and used to have nightmares about geometry. What I only come to understand now is that geometry, maths, physics and other scientific fields are tools one needs to use if they are to sharpen the logical side of their brain. The downside of it all is that such tools gives man the false sense of power over nature and life itself. However, scientific discoveries and the tools they provide in our quest to understand our world are never more than tools that should be used towards helping along the way. They provide no answer in themselves. They do, however, easily swell people’s heads into thinking that they hold the key to better understanding. 

Well...One should never let himself be fooled into thinking that a shiny tool- the means- can replace the answer- the end. The main risk in doing just that is what is happening right now: we lose our ways so much that far from seeking answers from within we keep skipping fundamental steps towards true understanding and we are blinded by the very things that were supposed to help in the first place. Therefore science has now become the means to a very different end whereby comfort and technology are in fact what we should be aiming at.

Now onto another side of me that has long disturbed me: the sense that I am arrogant. I feel very much deluded in the sense that I have that core belief that I am menat to do something extraordinary, somehow. As though I was that special. Well, perhaps it is a necessity to have a proportion of the human race deluded into thinking that they have something special to do or should at least what they can to leave a ‘trace’. If enough of us are enclined to think such things then the probability that one true genius will emerge from the mass is greatly improved. Makes sense. So, really, if I loathe that side of me for being so full of myself perhaps I should make peace by reminding myself that, if anything, I am in fact part of a bigger natural process within which the best can be harvested. In this I suddenly find the idea of being a mere grain of sand much more appealing. Then again, I was always secretly swayed towards the argument for humanity over the individual.