a little tale of cognitive dissonance

These are fickle children. They spend their years clothed in rudeness and arrogance. They draw lustful attention for their wanton debaucheries. Secretly however, most are sickened and would rather see them publicly humiliated or at the very least brought to a slow agonizing death.

Suddenly, within milliseconds, there is a marked change in mein. Not merely tangible but more like pie-in-the-face-of-whoever-knows-better. Smug, repulsive sneers melt away to saccharine grins. One only feels sorry for the poor deluded victim who helplessly falls to the overwhelming tide.

But that is not the end. In a primitive display of gorilla-like aggressiveness, the original demeanour returns with a vengeance. A testosterone-fueled fury marks the end of all civilised conduct. All innocents not contributing to the alpha male's manly glory are bowled over without impunity.

From fickle little children to raving monstrosities. Honestly, I have never been so disgusted in my life.

The smell of hormones mingling with perfume

While it may turn the heads of most, turns only the stomach of this one.

Maybe it's an overexposure to too much romancy-schmancy pop culture* early in life, or more likely just a lack of food, but watching my first successful pick-up** made me feel more nauseous than inspired.

Sorry for being deceived with images of Romeo and Juliet but wasn't there once a time where there was actually stuff between saying hi and sex?


*Actually romancy pop culture is the only exposure I have whatsoever. Real life? What's that?
**As a spectator of course; don't confuse me with someone who has courage.

The Better Covert Ops

I am rambo. Without the rippling muscles or extraordinary luck. I charge into a situation headfirst without considering the consequences. This has led to numerous failures before. I want to know a girl? I ask her. She says yes. Sometimes.

They, are subtler than the blackset covert ops. They will manipulate and coerce to whatever end they desire. The most frightening part is that they serve no one but themselves. Case in point, I leave my msn open on a table, unattended. One goes up to it while I'm not looking and invites herself using my account. Later on she tells me of the news, that I invited her. Now this is especially elegant because it defeats two problems. One, she doesn't have to ask me face-to-face, action movie style with big dangerous firey explosions. Two, because I know that she's invited me, I am flattered and don't follow through with my initial reaction of getting pissed for someone nosing through my stuff. Pure genius.

I sure do sound like the kid who finds air bubbles in his microscope specimen in biology class for the first time. I've made a groundbreaking discovery that only everyone else knows. Bah.

'Everyone has a skill. What's yours?'

I respect the man who dedicates his time to one, and only one skill. He is so committed to excellence in that one area, enduring hardship for that one tiny moment of glory when he can shine. The impersonation of others, a little trill on the keyboard, or even the ability to make small talk with complete strangers sans a stutter. This sort of heroic (that's the word I was looking for) focus is seemingly beyond me.

Every time a friend succeeds, I die a little inside

~Gore Vidal

who have i been fooling?

We were never meant to be together. At times I tried so hard, but this end was inevitable. The story goes,

When I was younger and greener, I was so enthusiastic about this relationship. I had a place I belonged. Part of something meaningful. It was fresh, mainly because I had never been part of anything before.

Then trouble started. Me, with my attention span so short, began to drift away. It wasn't long before we never saw. I went on a year-long hiatus. It was happy times, without needing to be concerned with anything. Due to unforseen circumstances, we were back together again. However, this reunion was a grudging one. I garnered some other merit out of it though, but beyond that no pleasure was gained. As soon as possible, I severed all connection with it again.

Recently, it came back to me, on it's knees. I turned it away.

Goodbye, and good riddance. Hockey is just not for me.
Here I am back again, not part of anything.
How coincidental, the nature of the game I so abhor, that makes me so.

It wasn't going well for him that day. Bad news was still whirling in his mind. He had lost countless rounds of poker, and how had a splitting headache. He goes to the counter and orders a drink. He downs several more before leaving the filthy place.

He shambles off to the train station, and squeezes to the seat vacated by an old indian man. He folds his arms like every one else around him and promptly falls asleep.

Worst mistake of his life.

As he dozes, several people enter and exit the carriage. Several people who potentially could have caused a marked change to his entire life.

A long lost friend enters. This friend is down on his luck too, probably even worse than our protagonist here. Friend sulks in one corner and shuffles out after two stops. Had our hero been awake, they would have noticed each others presence. They would have hugged and would have become business partners. Success would await them.

A charming and attractive lady walks in but takes no notice of him. Had he been awake their eyes would have met across the car, they would have gone out and spent many happy hours together, they would have realised that they were perfect with each other, and lived blissfully ever after together.

He then goes home, collapses on the couch with a beer in hand, and watches some Arsenal vs Liverpool before passing out. His half-finished beer spills over his couch which will leave a sticky mark until he throws it out several years later.

Every moment, a thousand thousand opportunities arise. Most of them flit by because one is at the wrong place at the wrong time. The rest are lost due to circumstances beyond one's control. The pitiful few left are not seen or taken advantage of and go on to become vestiges in the deepest reaches of one's mind where they will cause squirmingly-painful hindsight for years.

Old play-doh

I am not the same person I was a year ago, and I wasn't the person I had been, the year before that, and so on.

Every year, I'd mold myself to becoming a different person. Different in deportment and work ethic. Now it'd be somewhat due to propinquity. Being the impressionable and somewhat insecure young child I am. These transformations were sometimes for the better; but more often than not for the worse. This year, I have been fortunate.

It is a vicious cycle though. I'd never hold on to a character for long enough to be good at it, and I'd never achieve the acceptence I craved so. By the time I settled down, I'd be in a different environment, and have to evolve, or devolve, again.

But do what? How to alleviate this problem? Should I even try? This absurd fickleness obviously stems from an even more absurd need to be assimilated. In the years ahead will I turn into something else? what will I turn into? I am quite satisfied with my current state after all.

One hears the phrase 'be yourself' so often. Easier said than done.

running to stand still

Though we are only ordinary men,
And cocks and pigs and dogs,
We have some royalty in us;
We are crimson queens as well.

Constants

Selfishness, stupidity, horniness.

The reasons we exist as we are today.

First is all-pervasive. It is obvious. It needs no explanation.
The third is irrelevant to me at this point of time.

But stupidity, it's very nature implies that it does not know of it's own existence. Most saddening is the fact that because of it's obliviousness to itself one continues to commit the same follies again and again.

For hope springs eternal.

It's the concept behind things like the lottery. Or dating. Or dare I say religion.

But the lottery, dating, or religion, they are by no means the point of this post. They are mere arbitrary examples.

Stupidity is way too powerful to be focused on those three. It's everywhere. In others. In ourselves.