Posts tagged ‘living’

June 22, 2011

From This Height, The 19th Floor, The Centre of It All

From this height the city seems cold, dull, and uninviting. Despite the fact that there, in the middle of commerce, stands a monument with statuettes raising their arms, in a manner of openness and warmth. Still, it seems faked. Despite the fact the architecture of surrounding buildings are magnificent, from here it seems just flat and unattractive. Despite that today is the city’s so called “birthday”, festivities do not promote the surge of euphoria one hopes for. Would it be the thick smog that sucks the very life out of the pedestrians? Or is it just the tenacity of the people, not  to the city, but to the driving force of a band of ever-searching infinite contentment? Or is it just here? The 19th floor?

It feels like, overlooking everything, being in the position of the panoptic, but on the other hand unable to see anything at all. Not because there is nothing in physical form, but because there is nothing of interest to see. Traveling by bus, seeing a lot of people, realizing there are none at all. People stop becoming people as they avoid eye contact, searching aimlessly for a blank spot on the floor or ceiling to focus on, trying to be as cold and closed as they possibly can be. We, of the city, are soulless. We are forced into individuality without the possibility of an individual character. Lemmings. A term some would use that i feel very much fits this phenomenon. Lemmings (the rodents not the video game) are well known to migrate in large groups, blindly following a leader; a trend setter, often to their deaths. Our leader, our trend setter, is fear. This fear is what we follow, a fear to be left out of the group, lonely and isolated. We are ourselves therefore we shall never be alone. We shall never be the same therefore we shall never be alone. We are isolated only in our minds therefore we shall never be alone.

We are similar in variation, by this fact, we will always relate to whatever is thrown at us. To conform is to be fake, to adhere to conformity is to die a non-fatal death. But then again, we enjoy dying, for dying leads to quenching our thirst. Our thirst for establishment. Establishment makes us happy. This is the formula and forever will be true. It comes in many forms: capital, art, goals, epiphanies, welfare. Establishment are these things and more. The popular paradigm is of course capital, for in the modern world capital may allow us to buy other establishments, fulfilling the need to obtain. The city of false hopes and overrated desires. The needs fulfilled temporarily, eternally. Ironic is that i am writing this from the 19th floor, myself contained in the rat race of capital fulfillment. Yet, again paradox interrupts, alas we have our options served and choices made up. We, of the city, the lemmings, the soulless, the blank floor searchers, are addicts of banality and boredom. But in the end we shall survive eventually, more or less intact.

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April 19, 2011

“On A Side Note” Quote

It is not about something small and technical. It is about the future of the freedom to be as social beings with each other, and the way information, knowledge and culture will be produced.

(Yochai Benkler, about the battle of context between incumbent and emerging models of production. read: http://goo.gl/cVs2f )

April 14, 2011

The Meaning of “Meaning” …and Many Other Pretentious Existentialist Crap Like That

It  wasn’t the first time they said “We need to meet up, i need you.” but somehow it was the first time I realized I actually meant something. A justifiable boost of ego of course, but nonetheless I have meaning for someone. I account for something.

So,

Meaning.

“What is meaning?”

This phrase is so often in question that  — although never answered — it becomes cliché and jaded, the question of meaning has become meaningless. Based on that particular fact, let us rephrase the question. Instead of asking what it is, we should say “Define meaning!”. Definitions are the closest thing to valid arguments, there is a systematic and logical way of thinking to elaborate these definitions which makes it, well, logical. But trying to be logical in defining meaning would mean that defining meaning is hard, for meaning itself is sometimes illogical (A trinket could at some times be more meaningful than life, a plot of land could be more meaningful than family, financial gain could be more meaningful than friendship, etc. ).  Because of this illogic that attaches itself to meaning, the interconnection lays in its subjective quality.

Something, to us, will have meaning when it has value or function. Say, a safety blanket or a teddy bear; these are things that have emotional values and functions as a comforter. Meaning is constructed by these two factors. Value and function. These are probably why there are terms like “fake friends” or “dysfunctional families” which comes to use. Relationships that contains no value or function whatsoever. Well, maybe a little but probably insignificant to categorize it as meaningful. But again, this is subjective, what is meaningless for one is not always true for others. You can be “fake” for one person and “true” for another, depending on the observers position and opinion.

Then what am I? If I am meaningful, it means that I am merely functional. I am a tool. But if I am not a tool, I am nothing. In nothing we shall perish alone. Not that I want to commit mass suicide and take everyone with me, but it would be great if someone took in kind a memory of me.

Fickle is the mind in understanding the wants and needs. Reorganizing and classifying shifting interchangeable thoughts of  what would matter the least. We, or if you object, I, think too much too often. Over-thinking assumed consequences that probably will never happen. Which comes as an unnecessary safeguard, useless even. But yet, knowing this, we continue to construct thoughts of pessimistic nature just because of the urge of wanting to feel. The need to feel. An addiction to melancholy or at least feeling meaningless, yet at the same time knowing that there is an abundance meaning for some. There are those who have the need to search out for you, a very high valued meaning indeed. The redundancy of feeling self-loath only dismisses the value above. It becomes banal.

Meaning reconstructed: are we truly living a lie?

Since meaning is, at the very beginning, constructed then reconstruction is only a modification of its original form. So may reconstruction aid us into sanity, into inner peace, into a form of conformed redundant jaded banality.

March 17, 2011

Adhere

It is blasphemy, not in a religious sense though. More of a deviation in rationality. Blasphemy in it’s most secular form. What? I cannot truly say, it is a model, a prototype of the extremely profane. It is the epitome of next to nothing. It is the sound of self reassembly, cunningly forming a mould for use in the post-modern era. It is leased life, fully unoriginal, yet accepted by the norms. It is evolution remixed and remastered with a hint of reverberation  and distortion. It is unsalted, bland, yet to a certain degree: a culinary masterpiece. It fits yet it is incompatible. It is the synonym and antonym of all that has been created and destroyed.

Adhere! To those we fail to supply affection and/or apply to. Adhere! For we are misguided freaks craving for attention. Adhere! For we are in a solution of chaos and disinformation.

December 21, 2010

Next To Nothing…

The phrase above does not describe an ordinal position, which commonly refers to: “the best”. No, the phrase above describes more of a value, as in: “in very close proximity to nothingness”.

Definitions explained. Perfect. So, the argument here is how sometimes there is this feeling of being meaningless, a feeling that if untreated undergoes metamorphosis and becomes a condition. What emerges from pessimistic thoughts recreates a fork in reality, one towards “toughen up” and the other being “little pussy”…. The outcome depends solely on the option you choose. This next to nothing syndrome usually displays high levels of anxiety and self-loathing, this is normal, do not be alarmed. What we must do is isolate the source of the “next to nothing” syndrome, the trigger, for this trigger is the cause and the cure, alpha and omega. To activate the curative properties of this trigger we must first confront it, relieving ourselves from all egotistical urges to act high and mighty; to humble for awhile and lay down arms. We are all but meaningless, for meaning may easily be constructed either internally or externally;  revaluing the material, sacred and profane. There is no “one”, it is merely what we limit ourselves to.

This makes no sense.

December 5, 2010

Winning (As In The Eyes of A Child)…

Winning is subjective, an ambiguity. Which  contains the questionable factors of what and how; what do we actually win and how exactly do we win? A statement contrast to popular – and childish – belief of what are we winning and how do we win it? Similar? Well, yes, seemingly, but if we examine closely the latter statement focuses on material values, a tangible object. Where as the former seeks explanation for the meaning, it’s substance. Bear in mind: winning sometimes is a losing battle; it seems that what we win sometimes feel inadequate, not worth the effort, hence it is a loss even though material values are achieved. Personally for me, being at the winning end triggers a slight feeling of loss. Yet, the ego proves strong, denying such grief and calculating the cost-benefit ratio. The benefit precedes.

Or so, I would like to think that.

The win is beneficial in terms that it boosts moral and raise confidence, but there are still these inconsistencies between gloat and guilt. I have won; the other shows a need for me more than i need said other. Logically, i have the upper-hand, but the fact is that losing that someone is still… a loss… a loss intended but alas, a loss nonetheless. And especially since it was predetermined, the guilt seems burdening to a point where the win seems more of a total loss. But we cope, we move on, for many of them come and go; constantly variable. This would probably be what the end of adolescence amounts to: a definitive firm pose in which we obligatorily  carry the weight of the consequences upon ourselves. Neverland has never seemed so far behind.

November 30, 2009

Seul…

It was half past three when i left the coffee shop, 2 hours passed unnoticed, a book in hand speaking of the counter-culture and the co-modification of it. Funny how the world seems to move in a seemingly inconstant rate. How at one time the world seems so slow and motions taking so long to finish, at another time the worlds seems to catch up speed of what it lost. And so here we are, in the accelerated version of slow motion, in the time-lapse video of life and everything contained in a single dense sphere. We are where we are and what we are thanks to the what we did and what we were, what theorist believe that identity is formed by experience and history either individually or collective. We change a lot, redefining ourselves from time to time, and probably I’ve said it  before, but somehow in the end we lapse back to the yearning of our older selves. Something some people call peter pan syndrome, the envy for the lost boys, how they never age and act as simple and as plain as they should be, as should we. We are still the kid back in grade school, the naive boy that receives daily beatings either at home (the perils of little brother) or school.

So why did we stop? why did we stop  pretending to be the cop or the robber, or the princess or the prince, or the over ambitious drag queen? We create our realities, our own identities, being who we are as we used to be… unfake…

March 12, 2009

And what of the living?

We pour our endless minds to consuming the concepts and philosophies of the old dead and forgotten – not to mention that of those we read are often at times the white male (not to be confused with moby dick). In Indonesia it is accustomed, despite religion, clan, or heritage, that we pay respect to the dead… and in paying respect, I mean remembrance rituals lasting days, weeks, and years (not continuously). Javanese has this ritual of paying grievance at 40 days of death, 100 days, and sometimes even 1000 days.

Being this selfish ignorant asshole that i am, i ask why? Yes, we should remember them, and yes, their philosophical point of views were interesting and ingenius. But must we cage our own thoughts and be dumbfounded by theories and phenomenons based on what happened, old and rusted unable to find its place in this modern plane? or pay tribute to those we love and left us with all these materialistic images of glamor and awe drawing proportions? Both of these questions may be answered with a yes… culture in its finest form, from the generations of kings to poppers, the never ending battle of acceptance. Even for the dead. As those history books confirm, that those in scripture, whose name marches forth through time. The prophets of their time.

And what of the living? The purpose of those living are to be buried in scripture, remembered for aeons of time, a hope that their names would not be forgotten so soon. Ask anyone, how do they picture life after death? or what their funeral would look like? Marx may have died alone but many still say his name, in dreams and nightmares (deadliner, with a paper due an hour).

A life worth living is a life remembered after death. But really, who really wants to die?

January 26, 2009

The 21st year of living…

21… a number, comprised of two digits….

In the western cultural sense, it is an age of independence, ripeness, adulthood, wisdom, enlightenment, a very personal renaissance…

Yet, as that age hits me (no, I do not hit that age as i have never really fancied birthdays) nothing seems to change… I wake up and still feel that small sense of self pity I had grown accustomed to all my life…

Weird is the life that god has put me in, how my growth stunted at the age of 14 yet it does not change my egocentric narcissistic idealistic way of thinking…  And over seven years later I’m still the small guy that has a lot to say…. Even when it does not matter…

A lot of people ask, where to now? What’s my goal? Purpose? Plan? I’ll have to say I am one of them… I usually have this sort of 5 to 6 year plan, where I’m going, how to achieve that certain goal, what path would I take… Alas, experience thought me better, to live life… to take chances… and sometimes winging it…

Well actually fuck this, no one needs advice on living their life, because people differ in so many ways, they have their own way, their own style, their own life…

To live by the words of others… Controlled and conformed…. Peacefully unliberated…

And here I am 21 years out of the womb… Still confused as ever… Asking those same jaded questions over and over… Seeking purpose, questioning the very existentiality of life… Seeing those dead, wondering that we’ll just end up there… in a 2 by a half metre dug up earth… And us in it…

Death as the final means of life…