Putting an end to a long day of work, practice and more work, I write this, considering the wordings, mulling over every comma and, more so, every full stop. I feel like I haven’t written a single word in at least a year, but that is sheer delusion. It has been only slightly more than two months since I worked on what I considered to be among the most important things in my life. It is surprising, then, to see how little it has done to my mood, to my feeling of it all, to my opinion about school in general. My final exams were not particularly difficult, but considering that I only needed to get that official document – the art academy was, after all, nailed –, maybe my high regards for it had dropped a fair bit. The many words I wrote for Dutch, History and I don’t know what more, they feel ancient; as from a past I’m barely connected to, yet it’s only been slightly more than two months.
So rumour has it that I’m moving out pretty soon, and rumour has it right. It shall be the first time I will live in a city, yet it feels like barely a tiniest of shifts in my daily life. There are many clear problems that I haven’t yet figured out the solution to, and of course I will when it’s due, but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I would ask for tips, but I don’t have a clue what could possibly be said in words that I cannot figure out by doing. This might become the forte of my upcoming education, hard work and long days of that, proper labour and enforced insight, consideration second to execution. This is what education should be about – aside from maybe the long days, if we’re talking compulsory education and children – and I think that’s where it’s headed for many people. There is something, at least to me, extremely gratifying about working hard, receiving sensible feedback and making it even better than it was. Day in day out. Piece by piece. Not only will you slowly build up a layer of checking yourself, you will actually know what is considered effective and what isn’t. Some say it’s institutionalisation, I say it gives you both sides of the razor-sharp sword of opinion: just decide what you choose in the end. If it works, it works, and that’s more important than anything.
Taking a two-hour break from work might sound like a long time to most people, until they realise that, yeah, it’s half past twelve right now. Between the buzzing of the mosquitoes I will tend to soon and the kind voices of Erlend and Eirik, I’m still considering wordings, commas, full stops. I’m still considering systems, bad dreams, even purpose.
That’s scary, huh. I’m convinced a fair selection of my readers (which, these days, means about two people) know of philosophy, maybe even my own philosophies, and they will realise that “purpose” is not something I talk about a lot as something that directly affects my on-goings. None of the fatalist causality concepts that might pop up in your brain, friends. I’m talking usefulness. Stuff that is supposed to make sense once you get to the core of it. I wish I could put it more directly, but alas, that is not my strength in writing. Bear with me and my tangents. One day, I’ll make it all look good and work out fine. One day.
All is quiet or so I perceive it. I stand outside in the snow and laugh. I don’t know why I’m laughing. It’s really pretty cold and my coat provides only sufficient warmth to my torso. My hands… Oh, my hands! I wish I could still feel them. My ears are remarkably warm. I suppose that’s because my hair, added to it the still falling snow, makes for a neat piece of isolation.
The streetlights cast a very comforting yellow on the snow. As cars pass, the snow around them turns a bright white, then red, then yellow again. I’m standing on a crossing of four streets, and as far as they go I see people inside their living rooms, watching mind-numbing television, missing out on this greatness, oh what I’d do to avoid such a life.
I am still laughing. The strange kind of excitement that has taken over makes sure my face and legs are still warm. I can feel my feet, and they are getting far too cold. I walk off a few metres, and realise that I don’t want to freeze entirely. Stupidly, I stop walking completely and just stand. Another car passes. Even though the passengers are quite likely not freezing as much as I am, I feel that I have conquered them, for I have stepped outside in this lovely atmosphere and they did not have the courage to do so. Or is it my devotion to experiencing that what I really like? I think so. I really like to experience things like this. It inspires me and makes me realise of the things that are so much greater than I am yet try much less hard.
As I walk back home, I notice a few stars through the otherwise clouded night sky. The snow is still yellow. My hands are still cold.
- I took this photo around the same time of the month.
There are many unforeseen dangers in spreading bullshit, no matter whether it’s silly or meant to deceive. Aside from the more common issues—prosecution, Interpol search warrants, insults and threats at your address—there is still plenty of trouble left. It’d be great to be able to get back to the people punishing you for it, though. I think Galilei said it best when he said “e pur si muove!” I can’t see why anyone else would say that, anyhow.1 My Italian is flakey at best, for one.
Anyway, on to the show!
Three dangers you’ve surely not yet considered
- Your bullshit gets published and millions upon millions buy, read and eat your stuff. Your word is taken for truth, and you are considered the supreme deity in your following’s rather monotheistic system. If you don’t believe in gods, that could be a problem. Also: sacrificial burning. Of goats. We don’t want that.
- People will want to hire you to speak at college booze fests or birthday parties or book releases. Everyone laughs, and when it gets annoying, people will laugh more. Before you know it, you’re so fed up with being silly that you’ll end up an annoying old man (or woman, depending on your reproductive systems). A grumpy old man, who only complains about how the past was better—”in my day, an iPod was the best you got”; “nothing feels like the real thing: the tangibility and authenticity of ogg is still better than what you gat-dayum kids listen to these days!”
- My theory on the movement of light2 takes a rapid acceleration in the world of science and it happens to be true. It will be immensely tough for me to explain myself, considering it’s 1) a joke and 2) not really based on anything, ever, in any way. Besides, I don’t do science. Pfft.
There are many unforeseen risks when you start out in the world of spreading bullshit. And someone got to take ‘em, I says.
- Sorry Jina! ←
- And I quote myself, “considering the discussion whether light consists of particles or is a system of waves, I hereby state that light is particles moving in waves.” ←
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