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I am sure that I saw them earlier that day, before the sun started to set. Obviously, I have no concrete proof that they were here, and since they are not likely to return, I am not expecting anyone to believe me. It is not really a major issue. Well… it is, sort of… If I had not seen them, then I could have proceeded through life without the image of them firmly fixed in my mind. There is, unfortunately, no way of projecting the images in my mind onto a screen for others to watch. I could charge admission…
How do we know that our surrounds are really the way we perceive them? The point is that our brains are processing sensory input, and creating true representations of that input – we think. What if our brains are actually playing a joke on us and giving us a distorted representation of our surrounds? Consider that it is impossible to prove or disprove this argument. This is because all our reference points are based on (distorted?) representations of sensory input. Without an objective reference point, we have no way of knowing if we are living in a distorted reality or not.
Procrastination – if done properly it will ensure that you never finish the things that you start. This is probably the main reason you do it in the first place. You are afraid of finishing things. The fear of not being able to finish things properly is most likely the main reason for avoiding completion. Another reason is the fear of what you will be doing after you have finished what you are currently working on. If the present task can be prolonged, then the uncertainty can be postponed. Even though it is detrimental to your health, it makes sense – subconsciously…
He looked around before he left the road and headed off into the bush. I am almost certain that if he had known I was watching him, he would have left the road someplace else. It was almost four hours later when he reappeared at the same place he had left the road. I had nodded off briefly, but he made so much noise coming back, that I was wide awake by the time he reached the road. I noted that he was no longer carrying the bag I had lent him… I guess I could get a new one.
People go out of their way to be individuals, but they make sure that they are being just as individual as the people in the peer group they would like to be part of. In fact, they strive to be individual in the same way as everyone in that group. Being truly individual means that there is no group of people who share the same individuality. Unfortunately our society is based on adherence to one or more groups. Individuality is something we are all born with, and by striving to achieve what we already have, we end up losing it.
I looked around at the people standing below me. They were all eager to be noticed. While I knew that only one of them was due the credit I had been allocated to hand out, it was going to be difficult as the rest of them were going to be disappointed. I stopped what I was doing. Why should it concern me if the majority of these people were to go home disappointed today? They should have considered this as the credits were being accumulated. A lot of energy is wasted on feeling sorry for underachievers. Pity is not empowering…
He was incredibly defensive about what had happened. I almost felt guilty for even suggesting that he may have known what had caused the accident. He knew that he had been negligent through ignorance, but he also knew that if he were clever enough he would be able to deflect the responsibility onto someone else. And if someone else were responsible, then his accountability with regard to what had happened would diminish into nothing. There was a lot in his favour. This technique had successfully been practiced for centuries and was ostensibly what our society was based on. Justice? Ha!
The words passed through his mind. Every now and again he recognized a word and waved to it. There was an inherent understanding between the words and himself: he would not attempt to stop any of the words from passing through his mind, so long as they ensured that any words which made him uncomfortable would be redirected through someone else's mind. He smiled. They spoke about him with lowered voices. All he does is sit there and smile. Occasionally he waves. He makes us uncomfortable. Take him away. How could they understand? They had no access to his words…
The thought of being left alone was what made me lower my expectations and forego my desires. It was not a choice made on an intellectual level – in fact, had it been a decision based on logic alone, I would not still be in this situation. The choice was made out of necessity at an emotional level. I was at a point where my cup of stressors was full. I would therefore do anything to prevent another stressor appearing on the scene and causing my cup to overflow. Being alone would leave me without an immediate, albeit sporadic, support network.
There are rules, and they must be followed. The plaque was unambiguous, but useless since it neglected to advise me of what the rules were. I could envisage myself breaking every single rule at least once. This was not going as well as I had hoped – maybe there was a phone number to someone who could tell me what the rules were? After years of breaking the rules, I found that the rules had not been written down, but they must still be followed. Strict adherence to the unwritten rules was mandatory for full integration into what they called life.
I have a real problem accepting that the majority of people cannot see through the smoke screen, which has been labelled as "the War on Terror". I maintain that through fear you can control anyone, and people filled with fear will do just about anything you tell them to. If you are losing control, then all you really have to do is to create more fear, or realise a manifestation of an existing fear. Then focus their attention on a strategic solution, which will ostensibly eliminate the cause of their fear. You will have control and power restored to you…
I wonder who decided that dead people, who have been good, end up walking around amongst clouds playing the harp. It could have been the same person who decided that dead people, who have been bad, end up shuffling around amongst molten lava playing the lute. Either way, dead people get to wander around playing musical instruments. I have to assume that dead people have restricted access to electricity, or they would be playing CDs and MP3 files? Then again, there may be a surplus of traditional instruments, which have to be distributed first… Can I have a synthesizer, please?
The funny thing about the thirteenth day of any month falling on a Friday is that it is just like when this day falls on any other day of the week. However, when the combination of Friday and the thirteenth day of the month occurs, people will dress in black, roll their eyes and make sounds to indicate that something weird is going to happen to all of us. I claim that the only weird occurrence is the antics that these people carry on with. On the other hand, there is a commercial aspect to this day… That is eerie...
He finally saw what it was that they were afraid of. This really made no difference to him, as it was a fear that was grounded in a different group of people. He merely observed the source of their fear and nodded his head in an understanding manner. This minor action caused a big difference, because they interpreted it to mean that he not only understood their fear, but that he was going to eliminate the source of it for them. While he had no intention of actually doing anything, they were suddenly less fearful. Ultimately, he was their saviour…
Just a little bit longer, he thought to himself, seconds before he passed out. He never regained consciousness. It had all begun as a joke amongst his friends, being those people who disappeared once his decline was apparent. Those of his friends who were most eager to see him go through with it, were surprisingly the first to disappear. Those who stayed longer may as well have left with the others; since they did nothing to help. They just watched. I have since wondered about the things we label as jokes. Most of them are really not funny at all…
The average person does not pass their time in the present very efficiently. They are either worrying about the future, or dwelling on the past. Our past is already part of who we are. Regardless of whether we learnt something from a situation, the knowledge gained will affect how we will tackle a similar situation at a later stage. There is no point in dwelling on why we are who we are. Our future is shaped by who we are at the point in time when our future becomes present, as well as by relevant outside influences at the time.
The art of being is the art of knowing that being is a mindset. You cannot be happy or depressed or lonely unless you have a reference system that allows this. A given reference system will ostensibly contain reasons and excuses for justifying a specific state of being. We start out with a blank book into which we collect properties for each of our reference systems. By using more than one page for a given system, we risk remaining in that particular state of being more often than in any other. Some people use the whole book for one system.
In the past, he would have been staring at a blank sheet of paper now. He would also have had a pile of blank sheets of paper to replace this one once it was no longer blank. However, all he had now was a so-called blank page on a laptop screen. The blankness was an anomaly, as the entire screen was at all times (unless he shut the laptop down) filled with a grid of coloured lights. The page was therefore only blank because he allowed the conceptualisation of a blank sheet of traditional paper… not because it was blank.
There had been a time when he had been happy. There had been other instances when he had thought what he was experiencing was happiness. Although it is difficult to tell, once the experience has passed, it is probable that not many of those instances had actually been filled with true happiness. Maybe in a past life he had used to scoff at those who ended up with more than their fair share of unhappiness and misery? And now it had come back at him as a karmic boomerang? Whatever the case, he had to get out of this rut…
The gate had been opened and closed more times than it was possible to count in a lifetime. In the early days of its existence, it was quite content with being a gate. The others at the factory had been jealous of it, as it was the thing to be if you wanted to meet people. Fairly soon it realised that people were not interested in stopping to talk. They would approach, push it around a bit and then leave. Occasionally, the gate would resist being pushed, since the people would then swear at it. It was better than silence…
The sun shone through the leaves, creating a patchwork of small shadows interleaved with trickles of lightness. As we wandered across the patchwork, it crept up and covered us. Even though we were both enveloped in the patterns being created, it was nothing we could ever use as a point of reference. We had tried to… in vain. The connections and shapes that were covering us simply changed too often, and it was arguably impossible to return to any given set of connections and shapes. We had also realised the futility of ascribing any meaning to the patterns covering us.
Under the steps was a small room. It was well hidden, and had purportedly been built by someone who wanted a safe place to hide (either themselves or something else of some reasonable value). The room was large enough to accommodate three, or maybe four, decently sized adults. As expected, the room was quite dark inside. The only furniture in the room was a small coffee table in the centre. It had been bolted to the floor, and legend has it that quite a few people had tripped on it and hurt themselves as they connected with the opposite wall.
There was a faint scent of perfume in the flat. This told him absolutely nothing. In fact, he was beginning to doubt that he would ever make any money from this private detective agency he had started. So far he had had three non-paying customers. To be fair to the customers, he had not helped them at all, so why should they honour their part of the agreement and give him the money they could spend on something better for themselves? He stopped worrying and got back to the task at hand. It smelled like his cologne… actually, it was…
If our calculations had been correct, they would have arrived a little over half an hour ago. None of us could have predicted that rounding the numbers to two decimal places would have caused such major differences in time and space. Not only did they arrive two hours later than expected, but also they arrived at a place that was four degrees further south. By the time we had worked out what had happened, they had already left, and so we never met them. The clues they left behind seemed to indicate that they would be back again… very soon…
Rules are for those people who are too afraid to make their own rules. Our society has been modelled on a number of suppositions; one being that everyone needs to follow the guidelines that have been stipulated. If one person decides to deviate from the rules, they can be dealt with fairly swiftly without any repercussions to the society as a whole. If a large number of people start making their own rules, the practice of retraining them becomes a lot harder, and moreover, a lot more embarrassing for the rulers of the society. Anarchy requires self-sufficiency, and invalidates society.
He mentally recounted what had happened to him. He had bought a red duffel bag with tan straps. In it he had placed the following items: One yellow potato peeler, two unwashed potatoes, seven multi-coloured marbles, three small paper bags and a jar of green olives. He had then strapped the bag to his back and descended into the chasm. Just before he reached the bottom, he slipped and fell the remaining few metres. His bones were still intact, but a quick look into the bag confirmed his worst fear: the jar of olives had been broken. What to do?
What is the point of life on Earth? Our presence could comfortably be overlooked in the sheer vastness of the known universe (no mention of the unknown universe), so what is our role? The Christian interpretation provides a crutch for those people who cannot walk on their own. Other religions are very similar. They are all way off target. We are all part of a universal energy-pool. Each planet contributes their portion. Individually, we either add energy or use energy. Collectively, planets that use more than they add get recycled. Earth is due to be recycled very soon. Unless… no.
The significant thing about each planet being an energy pool (as part of a universal energy pool), is that we individually have the power to influence what is going to happen with our planet. If I consistently add to the pool, by being positive and constructive, and by encouraging growth and innovation to follow in my footsteps, then I will be positively influencing others close to me. If I am depressed and hence consuming energy from the pool, then I am encouraging others to do the same. More energy in the pool allows a higher state of consciousness to develop.
The room was perfectly circular. Each window was exactly ten degrees wide, and the centre of each of them was exactly 45 degrees from the centre of each of the windows on either side of them. There was no door, as that would have been geometrically unsymmetrical. However, one of the windows could be opened to accommodate entry or exit, once every pi years. The room turned ten degrees every year, and the window in line to be opened at the appropriate time was the one closest to zero degrees. The room was at four thousand metres above sea level.
Yellow parcels of fur are likely to have come from either a polecat or a lion. There is no reason to hoard parcels of fur in any case, so I cannot understand why the demand for this commodity is so great. The polecats and lions actually look a lot better with their fur on, than when it has been taken off them. In reality, the animals that donate (so to speak) their furs are doing so under duress. A lot of them are not even told what their fur is going to be used for. Is this really very fair?
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