Throwing microwaves at nutritionists.

Well, I just got back from a journey to Madrid. I was stuck there because of the intrepid volcano ash filling the sky. I don't think I have ever been that frustrated, that close to implode, and it made me wonder...
What would happen if we couldn't keep things to ourselves? What would happen if all those random words that cross everyone's head would just dive out in to the wild, reaking havoc on their way? What would the world be like if we just spoke what we felt?
I wish I knew.

Every day, I come home thinking I should've said something out loud, and wishing I hadn't said other things out loud. I always beg myself to consider my life with this blog and with the people I'm closest to, but my life is private property.

But wait.

Let's all spill the beans about everything that crossed our minds while trying to deal with the spaces between while trying to keep up with the ever-moving stampede of social cohesion.
Those feelings, that you can't put your finger on. Those feelings that make your conscience say "It's something like..." over and over again, but breaking up and watching the words rot away every time. Those feelings that haunt you, but only make sense when you just consider "knowing" them.
Pure and simple.
There's no need for words.
And those feelings, bitches that don't leave you alone unless you deal with them, treat them with some dignity and consideration, before letting them go as a different person (most of which most people don't do), are just a back-row light shining through your mind flawlessly reflecting the truth, but not reflecting it loud enough for you to realise and change, however perfect your ways may seem.
Just loud enough for you to feel...those fucking feelings.
People who ignore them shrug it off during their lives and get hit in the face once they've reached the final frontier and they're lying on their death bed.

It's those feelings that drove people like Galileo or Giordano Bruno to shout out what they thought. They, for example, thought the earth moved around the sun, and not the opposite, as the church "encouraged" people to believe.
Sometimes people feel those feelings and have that urgent need to burst, for the bettering of themselves and, they hope, for the bettering of the people around. But some people don't like that progress. Those people that will deny complete truth just to stay by the side of something that has made humans fight, hurt, kill, and love (albeit love in hypocrisy):

Faith.

Faith is a scary word. You can barely confront anyone about faith. Unless you have the same faith as them. It's already an awkward and socially sour situation when you don't believe in faith, and it's even worse when you have an "opposed" faith...or as the way things go, "rival" faith.
Because faith creates the need to compete, to prove (in whatever mischevous way) a point that is obscured and only exposed as far as it conveniences "faithful" people.

Faith made the church burn these innocent men at the stake. These men who had just seen the truth, on the top of a mountain, and had pushed through the thornbushes of lies and cliffs of monumental denial, to reach it. All they wanted was to climb down, and call an appeal to reason.
Only reason is also a scary word, and reason doesn't convenience everyone. Because reason has nothing to do with happiness, and even less with power. That's what the human being needs: power with enough happiness, however cheesy, to survive. For children it's easy, they're happy no matter what...until the turbulence of adolescence arrives and the darkness of reason grows.

We're tiny, ever so tiny, compared to reason. Some truth, hiding in our skies, that don't bear an open-minded limit...

And so after seeing all that the confrontations between religion and reason, between the people that clame that religion is reason and the people who clame that reason is simply reason, we decided to make religious and political views a taboo. Because that's the way that we solve problems, we don't extinguish them. We are that powerless in front of human destruction that we just shut the problems down and put them to sleep until another fateful day when they will reak havoc again.
"We are not prisoners of fate, only prisoners of our own minds" as Ben Franklin said. If we silence all of life's problems and conform with fake happiness, we will end up with a world like Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World". But here's my problem, and everybody's:

Now that I'm home, after all the twisted thougths that crawled over me, jumped onto me and stared me in the eyes while maddening boredom overcame me, I'm still glad to finally be in the small circle of comfort that surrounds me in the tiny space I occupy in life. So I feel I shouldn't disturb the massive monsters we have created, because I am powerless.
But I still feel that tiny shadow of guilt shining through the back row window, that's forcing me to write this article. I'm hitting those monsters in the face, like throwing spiders at an arachnophobe and throwing microwaves with pre-heated meat in them to a nutritionist.

But that guilt isn't strong enough. I'm just me and this motherfucking blog.
Because I, like everyone, am scared of reason and faith.
And the truth.

On the other side of the looking glass.

I've been doing this blog for what?...2 weeks now. At first, it was supposed to be a backdoor occupation to liberate what ever was going on in my mind about people around me. Things that have happened to me. Things that have happened to other people.

But it turned into a journal, documenting my point of view on the world. How small I am compared to it. How big I am compared to it.
It's funny, really. I didn't really see the change coming. Maybe I'm just deflecting on to subjects of the world because I don't want to talk about my personal life.
It's funny, really. Because there's nothing special or embarassing about my personal life. Maybe I deflect everything on to the world because I'm a part of it. I've shown you what I think of parts of us, humans. And parts of the world. Like time, sleep, happiness, style, trust, and differences and spaces between us.

This is the first article that I'm gonna finish in one go. Because I'm finding out that the rhythm is slowing down.

2 weeks ago I was really into this. Updating with a lengthy article every night.
And the next day I would turn back to my everyday life. Become that person I am everyday. He scares me. I don't even know who's me sometimes.

But I can tell you this: when I started writing articles about glitches of society, problems we all face, and strange emotions we uncontrollably feel, (and I feel strongly about everything I write down here), I became as honest as it gets.

And since I've started this blog, even though I'm sure not many people read it, things have got better.
I've started to realise that all this weight. This...anonymous roadblock inside of me, was being held up by all the points I supported, and everything I needed to shout out about this completely fucked world we live in.

But I can't say it's completely fucked up. I've never known anything else. No one's ever known anything else. And, even though not many people admit it, we should be happy with what we have.
And no, it isn't what "God" or anyone not on earth gave us.
We're here. Now. And it could be worse. Because we see worse, on the television, in books, on the radio, in school, everywhere. But we haven't really seen better, we can sense it, and it comes out to us in short periods called happiness.
But it's never truly come to us.

I've started to realise that, ever since I published "Happy accidents and peaceful riots.", my article about happiness a few days back.

The change seems quick. But I didn't see it coming.
I've written many articles. Things I never dreamed I would ever write about. And during that process. I changed. I was releasing everything through the words that are born here.
And here I am. Rambling on about what I've done since the creation of this blog. I'm happy with everything I've written. And it differs considerably from my first two articles, "This is pointless." and "Looking around."
Simply because since then, I've wanted to expose the world.
How different it looks at different times. Different days.

Some days, the rooms are so small. And you feel caged, unable to think or speak freely. On other days, the rooms are to large. And you feel marooned.
You can never win.

So now, I take life lightly. I take out all the twisted thoughts and worries on this blog. And I'm better.
So now, as I document things I see and the way they see me, remember that there's someone behind the looking glass.
Me.

The world isn't stable. If the world's in God's hands, then God's hands must be very shaky. I'm just here, rambling on what comes down on me. The raindrops of sadness, the overcast of doubt, the snow of redemption, and the sunshine that gives me a short period of that thing that keeps us all in place.
Unconditional happiness.

Sleeping awake, living asleep.

I slept. My first perfect night in a while. You know that kind of night that makes you feel alive and limber in the morning.
Where you can't detect that frontier between the dying hours of night and the opening bliss of dreamworld.

Dreamworld is a mysterious place. It separates the days that pull our life together, and grind our life forwards, no matter how hard you try to bring back the past. We've all ventured into it.
Some of us remember our stay perfectly, and can proudly announce the content of our dream to our friends in the morning.
Others remember a few weird details, and can proudly announce them to their friends in the morning.
And some others don't remember. They can just remember the fall. That nauseous sensation of skydiving into nothingness. I feel it.
Maybe our brain doesn't want us to know the crazy things that happen there. Because it might affect us. Change the person we are during the day.

Because there are no limits in dreams. Your mind is able to take a break, and separate itself from your body. It can just drool away at wonders it couldn't access with you awake. Because if it could, your integrity and ethnicity would be given a lifeline, and you wouldn't survive in the world.

Because in real life, there are limits. You've got to stick to whatever is planned out for you. At work, at school, at home.
Even when you go on holiday. When you deliberately try to move away from your usual surroundings, to get something new pouring over your eyes and ears, while remaining unfazed.

You live your life asleep. We live our lives asleep. We do things so automatically that everything becomes meaningless. The routine is agonizingly monotone. You barely use your human capacities. Those things you can do. But that the world you live in will tolerate, but dissuade you from. Saying that they would rather you didn't. Which is a polite way of saying: "If you do this, you're in shitland."

Single men or women, who have nothing to come home to, who try not to fade away into their own self-righteous misery, live asleep. Even people who do have something to come home to, live asleep.
We all do.

We just let things pass. Trying to achieve the minimum. Ignoring what doesn't concern us. Because you can't fit all of that into one day. Or into two, since days are separated by nights.
And by night, when your mind is given a free pass around the island that is your brain, you feel alive. It's then that everyone is truly awake.

Whether we feel shame after it, is defined by the fact that some of us remember, some of us don't, and others choose not to.
That is the only time when you can truly keep yourself company. Because time doesn't exist. Colors, shades, objects, walls, matter itself, blend together and mix. And your mind likes to experiment with that, just for the thrill of it. That unknown sensation when you are your daily self.

That daily self, that can contain what it's really thinking. Contain what it really feels.

I don't expect the day will come when we will not live our lives asleep. We're in too deep in what we've built. We can't back up the tunnel now.

So I slept. It was a good night. I don't remember anything. Just an endless freefall. I'm pretty sure I did many adventurous things. My mind chose not to keep them. It actually intercepted that thought before I could get to the mail box. But I don't want to get to the mail box. Because I know that my daily self is very different from my mind in its entire purity. When it isn't intoxicated by my surroundings.

But I can't help that. I'm forced to be too busy during the day.
So I keep the bliss of dreamworld away.
Just for now.

The blind leading the blind.

Trust is fucked up. Trust is a stupid word anyway.
Who ever said anyone needed trust? If we'd all just stayed monkeys with that same simple formula: "Birth. Hunt. Feed. Mate. Death." we wouldn't want trust. We wouldn't know of trust.

I put my trust in certain people. In other people, I find the corridor too dark to throw a mousetrap into. Some people disappoint me, they throw back the trust in the form of pure dislike. Everyone has those people in their lives. You like them and appreciate their presence. So do they, but that doesn't mean they trust you, or that they think you should trust them. Trust has nothing to do with that. Trust is a complicated minefield that stretches out in the spaces between people.
When you trust someone, you give them that possibility to access that part of you, that inner scar that makes me itch every time I see a show defending something I don't agree with, every time I talk to people I find capable of persuading me to eat at a mexican restaurant, only to find that they knew I hated mexican food.

Trust barges in when you find the need to share something with an exterior being, because you think it's better for you. Only when you trust people, you're obliged to lie. Because that's what trust is. You can confide in someone, show them you trust them, and not tell them the whole truth...you can tell them the truth in a way that conveniences you, so that it gives some value to your friendship with the person, but not too personal so that you don't sell yourself to them.

That's what trust should mean.
Even that doesn't mean much.

But it's not that simple, when you make your way to those pointless sociology and individual help classes that you are forced to take. They tell you a bunch of bullshit about "talking to people" and "Confiding in people is easy! That's how you get out of shit creek when you're down."

That's lies. You're supposed to trust those specially trained "teachers" and they actually say "It's so easy" to be open. "It's so easy" to get better.

It's not "so easy". Simply because men didn't stay monkeys. We evolved. Got ourselves some brains. A mind. And it's that particular intelligence that makes you wonder all the dangerous things that people wonder...like "Do I really trust myself?".

Once that thought has stopped by at one of the rest areas in the motorway of your mind. You're stuck with it for a while.
You wonder if you really are telling yourself everything. You wonder if, your mind is just playing tricks on itself and forcing you to lie to yourself. To do things that other, reasonable, part of you won't do.
You're a different person when you're around different people. You could do things with your friends that you would never do at a family dinner, because you can shut down that reasonable part of yourself and...move along. Like any animal in need of fun would do.

It makes you wonder that if you're too lazy to clean your room, comb your hair or stop your best friend from breaking his spine. Can you trust yourself?
Because the basic human being doesn't know of trust. He just feels he has to survive without anyones help.

Alone.

That's all he's there to do. He's been put on a world he hardly knows, for a purpose he isn't aware of, and he must avoid the dead, and survive, until the day he joins them.
But again, we've evolved. Sadly, now every teenager can think for himself. Wonder, if he (or she) really should trust himself, and by listening to all the mainstream bullshit on the TV, radio, or in certain "sacred" buildings, he ends up trusting himself. But that trust isn't sincere.
So that teenager thinks he does. He thinks he's fine, just going along, fitting in with the system he was born in to.
So he thinks he can broadcast that trust to the other teenagers he's around. Because we think we're nice.

But that trust was never there.

There's still that spider crawling in the back of all our heads telling us that we're asking too many questions, that trust is a mirage. A clot that imprisons us in our own minds.

That trust is never there. We create that trust, and pass it on to others. It makes us think we can trust others, that they are all about the peace, and the brotherhood.
It makes us believe that all those religious things that they teach us, "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth etc.". They tell us that a crime can be fixed by another crime, that this is trust that we should all behold and live in peace with (while respecting and honouring an imaginary ghost somewhere in the sky). I respect people's faith, I have great admirations of certain people that have faith, but I can honestly tell you that Gandhi was right all along: "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."

Yes. We are all blind.

We're blinded by what the world has carved us out to be. We're blinded by that little asshole called society. We're blinded by ethical laws telling us how we should be. We're blinded by our "leaders", by our social systems...

Is that what you can call trusting yourself?
No, my friends, trust does not exist. Trust could exist, but it never saw the light of day. The light of our days.
So we're trusting the shadow of trust.

I don't trust myself. That's how I've managed to put this message forward to you.
Don't trust. Just live, love, and enjoy it while you can.

Reasons behind the fever.

We're all just the same. A lot of people will go on ranting about how "everyone is unique", "everyone is special in their own way".
Those people are...how should I put it?...douchebags.

Yeah, OK, I guess we all think differently and we act in slightly different ways. But all this doesn't have any consequence whatsoever on who you are. And by "who you are", I don't mean what your favourite band is, or what types of movies you like to watch while gulping down full tubs of Ice-Cream when in a couple of hours you'll be dancing in a club wondering why your intestines are punching your skin.
No, "who you are" isn't what you think or any of your opinions on very seriously taken subjects like abortion or euthanasia. That "who you are" is the "who you are" from the end of a Hollywood movie. Or from the end of a life lesson from a teacher that thinks he is communicating and reaching out to you.

"Who you are" is a term that's bullied around and given a lot of shit. No matter how many cheeseball lines people throw at you, no matter how many morals are given to you at the end of predictable movies, "who you are" is not what you think about yourself and others.

"Who you are" is the big picture.
The fact that you're one of millions of others that are on this planet, trying to pick out some understanding and trying to develop thoughts that many others have thought before them. And they won't make a difference.
Nothing an individual does will ever make a difference.

But here's the catch: the fact is, that life is short. Very short. And you've just got to grab every chance of reason, insight, or happiness. But that isn't "who you are", it's just "what you're making the best of". "Who you are" has nothing to do with that.

People tend to make that confusion. Because it's convenient. It's easy.

"Who you are" differs with the point of view. Because humans are capable of lying. You could think all the vicious, sadistic, racist, psychopathic thoughts in your mind. But come out as a gentle flower to other people. That just brings us into the massive universe of human hypocrisy. I won't dive into it too deep, because I might find something that could incriminate me. Yeah, I don't want that. Isn't that hypocritical too?
You see! What I think or do doesn't stop me from being a hypocrit, even though I am an insightful hypocrit. That isn't "who I am".

Speaking of hypocrisy, the debate about the differences between men and women will always make me itch. It will make that scar (that I talked about in my last article) itch.
First of all, men have always been considered the superior sex. For many years. Now, women come out of nowhere claiming that they are equal to us, men. Their claims are completely legitimate and it would be stupid not to consider them. Women are equal to men. There's no doubt about it.
But the thing is, men are physically superior to women, and they have demonstrated it by shunning and smothering them throughout the years. That's why men have gained that "superior" reputation.

Now, I'm not against women who claim they are equal. No way. Men who are macho and see themselves as this year's Dennis the Menace, are moronic.
But women who consider themselves superior simply because the clichés of higher and lower society see men as "simple" or "easily controlled". And even if they claim that they are superior and all men retarded, they still pronounce these ridiculous phrases like "Ladies first!" or "Let the women do the honours". All of those phrases are correct and polite, but not when you claim you are superior!
Those women are just as foolish, if not more.

Those women try to define themselves as "who they are" by ranting on about what they think, what clouds up their mind and increases that frenzied pulse.
But that isn't "who we are" or who anyone "is". Women and men are equal. They always were and always will be. Men and women have always had two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears, one nose and one mouth. They both need each other.
The way they think is what's stirring up that unnecessary chaos.

Because that's the way it is. Humans are capable of lying, distorting the truth, reversing the truth, or just shoving the truth in other's faces even more violently. That clouds up "who we are". Who we all "are". Just creatures wandering around. Aiming to make a difference somewhere, somehow. Some of us give up. Others succeed, but that success stays personal.

It's simply because we can think that we can change "who we are".
It's an eternal fever traveling from the deep universe of hypocrisy to the galaxy of reason, to a world of lies, into a civilisation full of intelligence, but also full of crap, into the small space that this very article occupies.

But this article isn't "who I am".
I think differently, but on the outside, we're all just the same.

Beyond scarhood (chronophenia revisited).

Someone is born. A new one. Into a vast world.
Hopefully, born to live, and to last.
But that someone will not go through his life unscathed. There is no way. But that's the nature of the experiment, the way we were supposed to experience it.
That someone comes into this world. He doesn't know it to begin with, but as I said in my last article, time has done a lot before him, and will do a lot more after him. His life doesn't have much of a purpose, compared to time.

That's false.

Someone is about to die. An old one. Out of a vast world.
Hopefully, he will die in peace, and without regret.
But that someone didn't go through his life unscathed. There is no way. But that was the nature of the experiment. His experiment. Or, more accurately, the experiment they played on him. "They" being time. That uncontainable bitch that I talked about in my last article, while in the meantime, I wasted some of it, time.
His life didn't have much of a purpose, compared to time. Did it?

That's false.

We all go through this. We all will, or we all have.
Life.
I've barely cut into the cake. I still have a lot of mushy chocolate and vanilla to bite through, plenty of soft icing to lick of the top, but I still have plenty of gravel to spit out and swallow too.
We always pray for the best. To have the best life possible. Many people have finished the cake and are just waiting for it to digest and to just float away... Some of them have said to me: "I wish I hadn't suffered so much in my life." The fact is, that's impossible.

People will suffer. From the day they are born to the day they die, they are open to it. That's the nature of the experiment. Even if you are rich, and people will do all your chores and jobs for you, you will still have bad days.
That's not where the experiment lies.
No.
The experiment lies in the fact that we're put through a test. We will all end up scarred. Some of us will end up made out of scars. These scars can be buried deep beneath the skin, some childhood trauma that will resurface whenever you fly dangerously close to the bottom of the whirlpool. Other scars are shallow, superficial. They'll sting, sometimes atrociously, for a few days, when eventually, they'll hide away and not bother you anymore. Well not directly.

Then there's that third type of scar. That type that many people don't know exist. The kind of scar that if you mention it to people, they'll turn away, thinking you're delusional. That type of scar that is planted there in the beginning. It's always there, itching. Throbbing.

That scar is the power of your mind. That scar makes you think, wonder, hope for impossible things to happen. That scar is also there when those impossible things stay impossible, and everything comes crashing down.
That scar will always be there, laughing at you. But by laughing at you, it provokes you. For the precise reason that it wants you to react. It wants you to get off the secluded island and head for the mainland. Back with the living. Well, no one really "lives" anyway.
That scar is the people you don't want to disappoint. That scar is the things you've always wanted to do. The goals you've always wanted to achieve.

I have that scar. All I can say is that it's been bleeding profusely ever since I started to think for myself. It's that scar that makes me think all of these thoughts.
It makes me think beyond scarhood.
Beyond, in a world with no borders, no boundaries, no limits.
But when the time comes to get through another week, that bliss crumbles.
And yet that scar is there, laughing at me. And it makes me think, "Fuck. I shouldn't still be here." So it drags me, or I drag myself, out of that wonderland, back into reality, and I start walking around again, interacting with all the others that were born with that scar. That is to say, everyone. Even the ones who choose to live their life on the surface, without digging into the deep layers of the cake.

That scar lives with us. Sometimes, that scar is us. Just to make us wonder.
That's the nature of the experiment.

Chronophenia.

Time isn't on our side. I can't really see time on anyone's side. If time is on our side, who's on the other side? What a stupid phrase...I can't remember the name of the douchebag philosopher who said it. No, time isn't on anyone's side.
Time is unbendable, unbreakable and desperately scary to look into. We think we can juggle with time. We think we can fit everything into as little time as we want.

Time doesn't bend one way or the other just to accomodate you. It's like what water will be in 50 years time: precious, rare and only coming a couple drops at a time. I can't bare to think of the number of people I see that spill the hour glass of time all over them, not taking any time to appreciate the slow fall of every grain...

Time is infinite, but we are not. The time we spend making sure we can live well enough to have the heating on 9 consecutive months and the air conditioning the next 3, should be spent savouring the presence of other people.
Time goes by and living like this, we won't take long walks in the evening , have long conversations that carve words and images in our souls, we won't make the best of a mariage, we won't see our friends, we won't see our children grow up.

By the time you're pulled into something you are really interested in, that you crave with all the witts you have left, you get pulled away to something else, when you're called by someone you know, and you utter those fateful words: "I'm coming, wait a minute."
We don't think to watch time go by and look back to gaze in amazement at all the grains of sand that we have seen fall, even though they weren't the first, and won't be the last.
We're not aware that time isn't controlled by us. We can't make it flexible just to make our day more convenient. Time has existed, ironically, since the beginning of time.
We don't know that every fucking minute we spend lamenting on how we should of handled a few grains of sand, a lot more grains have already fallen and the clocks are tick tocking us towards the grave.

When we shut our eyes, the world is still there behind your eyelids. It has aged a few more seconds and time is still working on flooding hilltops and digging valleys.
It's kind of selfish, really. But we are all part of the same hypocrisy. The hypocrisy of human nature. How proud, dominant and ignorant we have become.
Sticking to a tight schedule won't buy you time, it will just leave you with a few seconds, a few grains of sand, to think about how you could have used these seconds.

It will just give you a few more seconds to feel even more useless. Helpless.

It will just give you a few more seconds to wonder why you are wasting time doing things such as watching TV, reading magazines, cooking undersized meals for a family of 7 billion, or wondering how you wasted the time you wasted.

I wonder right now why I'm wasting my time posting this article while I could be making the best of how lucky I am, and while I could be spending time with people I didn't know I admired so much.

We all think we can juggle with time. But time is juggling with us.
Time is on its own side.