Auditor Adam and the Photocopier Pandemonium

 The short, fat appendage of the time telling apparatus inched closer to the marking representing the 3^rd digit of the Sumerian numerical series. The complexity of that statement that merely said it was just 3 o clock amused Adam to no end as he sat at the 4 by 2 table, leafing through invoices of “Acme and Co”. Wielding the 2 pens of accounting destiny, the blue pen of creation and the red pen of fulfillment, he confirmed, denied and endorsed every transaction that came his way, guiding them to their final resting places in the ledger of the gods. He was the St Peter of accounting. He was Auditor Adam.

As Adam vouched and casted to his heart's content, there came the inevitable accumulation of original invoices ready to receive the grace of the holy light bestowed by the almighty Deus ex Xerox. As Adam marked the chosen with the pens of destiny, he looked towards the faces of the eager invoices awaiting salvation and sighed. The mountain of paperwork that lay towering above the tabletop looked as daunting as the peak of K2. “Not like I have a choice”, he thought as he herded the stack of invoices towards the room of the revered Xerox machine.

As Adam approached the room, his expert auditor senses tingled. Something was amiss. The usually benevolent hum of the gates to accounting salvation sounded hostile, malignant. Adam approached cautiously. Something was very, very wrong. The machine beeped as though mocking Adam's cautions, laughing scornfully at the auditor's cowardice. A cold wind blew through the room, and the chosen invoices shivered in fear.

Adam stepped into the room and the corrupted guardian immediately roared to life. A cacophony of beeps pierced the previously tranquil air. The status panel flashed red and Adam knew immediately what was wrong. The fallen Stygian staples have infiltrated the gates and have corrupted the holy guardian, wreaking havoc within. The cry of help of the guardian of the gateway did not fall on apathetic ears. Adam gritted his teeth and growled, “You dare show yourself in this sacred place, demons?” “You will NEVER corrupt that which is true and fair”. Adam rolled up his sleeves and summoned the powers of the FRS, bestowed on him by the ones in the high tower.

He rushed at the Xerox, immediately opening the feeder tray and extracting an offending fallen staple, banishing it to where it came. One down. No time to waste, the staples were destroying the guardian from within, using their infernal touch to overheat the divine mechanisms. Cover A was next and 2 of the imps lay hidden under flap B, deep within the heart of the Xerox. Time was running out, the intruders have summoned the power of the Enron and the infernal heat emanating from the guardian felt as though the explosive diarrhea of hell's bowels have ripped Tartarus asunder and spilled its heat onto our mortal plane. “Debiting damnation”, the auditor swore as the 2 demons rattled smugly, laughing at the auditor's helplessness.

Adam reached into his pocket for his divine instruments and spoke unto them, “You have served me well, my faithful companions, but today I must ask you to lend me your strength and to do our duty to the ones in the high tower.” The blue and red pens of destiny glowed, bathed in the strength of the FRS, eager to do their master proud and sacrifice themselves for the greater good. “I thank you for your sacrifice oh noble ones. You will never be forgotten,” he said. With his new found power the tools of destiny had bestowed him, he plunged the pens deep into the guardian's heart, with 2 deft strikes with the nib on both pens, he dislodged the accursed staples from their demonic lairs and sent them right to the abyss of the waste disposal unit. “And good riddance you unvouched ulcer,” he shouted after them as they fell to their doom.

Adam quickly pulled his companions out of the infernal heat and pulled a rough sheet of paper from Tray 2. “ Don't die on me,” he cried, his eyes brimming with tears. As the 2 pen nibs touched paper, their life blood of blue and red stirred within them, waxing in the presence of the great white plain. As Adam moved their nibs slowly across the white expanse, their ball bearings grinded to life and turned once more, flooding the white with their ichors of blue and red, once again able to serve the ones in the high tower. Adam breathed a sigh of relief as his companions lived to fight another day.

The battle was won, but the war was far from over. Someone was responsible for this desecration of hallowed ground. Someone had opened the gates to salvation and allowed the stygian intruders in. Adam knew exactly who he was. But that is a story for another day in...

...Auditor Adam and the Incorrigible Intern!

Don't ask me.

Tumbling, stumbling, fumbling
Feeling my way around.
Falling, stalling, crawling.
Eyes wide open, but I can't hear a sound.
Toiling, boiling, soiling.
Blissful ignorance, my mind's rigidity
Melting, gelding, welding
A thousand voices, in one entity.

Don't ask me who I am for one.
I have no idea who I have become.
Don't ask me what's wrong with me.
I won't know as I can't see.
Don't ask me if I'm happy now.
It's not in my hands somehow.
Don't ask me if I love thee.
It's in a box I've thrown in the sea.

All I can say is I'll be here.
So you, yes you, have nothing to fear.
I'll do the bleeding for the both of us.
So only one of us has to live this curse,
Of that which is unrequited,
to you moot, but me, required.
Perhaps it will, perhaps it won't.
Perhaps you do, perhaps you don't.

Against the unrelentless I trudge,
And lock away this grudge.
I will serve till this heart give out.
And live with this gnawing doubt.
I will answer your every whim and fancy.
And you will feel just fine and dandy.
Your happiness is all that matters,
No matter if mine's in tatters.
If one of us does have to suffer,
Let it be me that ends in the gutter.

I guess love for me will always come with a price.
But a break sometime, would be really nice.

2 Weeks

Wow it's been long since I updated huh? I figured that since I have some time now, I should at least try to write a bit lest I lose my writing ability permanently. Hurr hurr.

It's been a tiring 2 weeks. Project work, emotional rollercoasters from people you care deeply about, death of a revered figure, and not forgetting the hustle and bustle of normal life. These 2 weeks are not your normal, mundane, ordinary 2 weeks, but somehow life is just seemed to be made up of the events of these 2 weeks. We gloss over the banal repetitions of our daily routines, and remember key events. We remember spikes in emotions, both positive and negative, sometimes negative more than positives. I won't remember what I had for supper yesterday, but I can remember dancing with Glor 2 weeks ago. Talking about remembrance and a rather unfortunate departure from the ordinary was the death of our dear leader Lee Kuan Yew. I have never met the met, nor spoken to him in person, but I have inherited the same respect for the man from my parents, who escaped poverty in Malaysia due to his policies on foreign talent. And it was this respect for him and happenstance that made me pick up a comic book called, if I'm not wrong, my memory is rather fuzzy, "The Malayan Tiger" that told the life of Lee Kuan Yew from his prestigious beginnings at Raffles Institution to the great man we have been blessed with. I cannot recite his achievements nor tell anybody the rationale for my respect for him, but all I can say is that, when I listen to his speeches, and read his quotes, he gives me the feeling deep in my gut that he is not only an intelligent and powerful man, but he has a will that will not falter, and a heart wide enough to think of all of us as people, and want to, genuinely, help us, and not due to some political agenda. He is a man that gave his life to the success of Singapore, not as a pencil pusher, bureaucrat or policy maker, although he was a bit of all, but someone who showed no weakness in the face of adversity, someone to rally around, and someone to motivate us to move forward, and point us in the right direction. I have never met you Mr. Lee, but I will remember your legacy for as long as I live.

Although I appreciate Mr. Lee's efforts in bringing us this far, the modern world is not without costs. School is getting tougher and tougher, the people around me, due to Singapore's ever improving education system, are getting better and better at memorizing material, applying said material in tests and exams and delivering aforementioned material in the format professors ask for in a neat, crisp and rather aesthetically pleasing presentation, report or model. Furthermore, not only are these people getting really good at doing that, due to our open immigration policy, we get even more people who are not only great at the skills I have mentioned above, but hungry for success and wishing to escape poverty in whatever land they have come from. They have the same hunger our ancestors had when they first stepped onto Singaporean soil escaping the hardships of rural China. And on the other end of the spectrum, we have the students who carry themselves well, speak with finesse and polish, yet have characters that will make Machiavelli blush. These people, poised to climb the corporate ladder on showmanship and form breeze through the system like a colonial power exploiting their colonies. I knew University was going to be tough, but I was hoping that it would be intellectually challenging, where the actual pursuit of knowledge is rewarded. Substance has to take precedence over form, while what I see is the complete opposite of what is supposed to be the true nature of education. But who am I to complain? The paper chase will not stop just because I cry foul. As much as I would hate to grow into the moulds my predecessors have left me, you know what they say about being in Rome. Although we might see sparkles of true genius here and there, where delightfully original works are submitted and glorified with A pluses, the less capable, me inclusive, have to content with taking these works of genius and trying to emulate them the best we can without infringing on the plagiarism clause. Tweaking data, adjusting models, rephrasing and paraphrasing, that seems to be our roles when it comes to group projects just to ensure that our submissions get us the grade we need but not deserve. It is so easy to just copy, and here I am praying for the strength to remain aboard the ship which is my sinking GPA.

Apart from my tumultuous school life, there is that of my social life, which I am truly considering whether I should share on such a public platform. As an introvert, and one who loves solitude and routines, socializing was never my cup of tea. But in recent weeks, my phone has been abuzz with a whatsapp message here, a facebook message there. And all these hyper stimuli from very pleasant members of the opposite sex are all very flattering, but when I search deep down, I only wish to have a relationship with a lady I adore. I may have found her, but she's fickle, indecisive and absolute pain in the ass but she's a delight when she's around, when I spend time with her. Sometimes I wish I've never met her, sometimes I think she's the best thing that has ever happened to me. She drives me crazy in a humongous maelstrom of love, anger, insecurity, adulation and obsession. Sometimes I wonder whether I'm in too deep for my own good, and sometimes I think that we're a match made in heaven. All this excitement for someone who prefers to be at home with a nice cup of tea tinkering with his computer. All I want is for someone to love me as much as I love them, for our pedestals that we place each other on to match in height. All I want is someone to settle down, have a family and work towards an uncertain future, but with the comfort of knowing that no matter what happens, she will be there for you, braving the storms and basking in the sunshine with you. I speak of love like a hopeless romantic, and have been chided by many to keep my heads out of the clouds and focus on work, a realistic spouse and myself. But I can't. I'm a hopeless romantic in search of my happily ever after. And when that possibility seems so tangible I could just reach out and grab it, I love with a passion second to none. I love deeply, completely and with no regard for my own feelings. I give myself completely to that person and pray to any deity that she will catch me before I break myself on the hard surface of rejection. It is definitely foolhardy and the worst thing anyone can do, but when I have found someone that I want to spend the rest of my life with, I don't waste it being cautious.

"Once more into the fray.
Into the last good fight I'll ever know.
Live and die on this day.
Live and die on this day."

May the rest of my little 2 weeks that make up my life never be ordinary.

Straddled

I think there’s something wrong with me. I don’t fear death. I have so much to lose, yet I don’t fear my passing from this world. It really is rather strange as I would think that someone who has everything in life going for him would cling on to life like a starving man to morsel of bread. This “affliction” began since secondary school where I sought purpose in life, but found none. Although the search for the purpose has terminated prematurely, the fear of passing has not.

I enjoy life greatly. I love the sweet smell of the dew laden air of a glorious cloudy morning, where the chilly air feels as clean and as fresh as that of Cameron Highlands before they destroyed it with development. I love listening to the radio and hearing a particular upbeat song come up and makes me feel that everything around me is awesome, myself included. I love the thrill of speaking up in classes and saying something intelligent, adding value to the class and feeling so proud of myself that I actually did something useful. I love my evening runs where the world seems to be turning and existing just for me, the silence of the night where everyone is sleeping, cosy in their own homes and I seem to be the only soul crazy enough to run through the darkness. When I run, I feel free; free from thought, free from worry, free from shackles, free from rules. For that brief thirty minutes, it is just me and the night air, contemplating the universe and all its mysteries, enjoying that particular song that just came up on the radio, being at peace with the world. There is no doubt at all that I love life, and I love my life.

But at the same time, the purpose I have chosen for myself seems weak and insufficient to be the reason for my existence. If I was put here for a reason, I would like to have a greater purpose than just the mere conduit for the transfer of energy, or the carrier of the seed for the future of the species, or to be simply part of the carbon cycle. In the grand scheme of things, we are all dust on the windowsill of the universe, ready to be blown away by the nature’s schedule of the apocalypse. Human beings are such curious creatures. We build civilisations, further our body of knowledge of the world and its infinite puzzles, shaping it to meet our needs, and then proceed to shape ourselves to fit the world we have created. We see no need to adapt to the natural world, but mandate the conforming to the rules WE make. And this endless cycle of floundering in a world of our own design is just ludicrous. Like Sisyphus, our daily exercise in making a name for ourselves in this man-made world is ultimately a pursuit of futility. Why not instead, SIMPLIFY the world around us to ensure that EVERYONE has enough to live comfortably and stop with your tomes of borderline unreadable laws, your complex financial instruments and derivatives that no layperson can understand. Why do we do this to ourselves with TV, Internet, Fashion? Why keep up with the Joneses when that pursuit is ultimately a vicious circle to no end? Time and time again I try to return to my core, my reason for existence, but I really cannot see it, with all these distractions and mixed purposes clouding the path I want to walk.

If I were to return to my original purpose, it was to be remembered. A selfish but enduring purpose, to say the least. “So long as men can breathe and eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” It might have another meaning, but this line allows me to remember that even when I’m long gone, as long as the history books remember me, I will forever live on in the memories of my children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and the descendants of strangers all around the world. And I used to strive towards this purpose, and all seems well. But recently, something changed within me. I don’t feel the need to be remembered anymore. If I were to fade away into nothingness tomorrow, I would have no regrets, no unfinished business, no wishes to wish, no goodbyes to say. I would just leave this world as quickly as I came, an attosecond on the infinity of time. What use is a legacy, when the people who remember you, are fleeting existences in the cosmic expanse of space and time. I’m just grasping at straws.

So, forget the purpose. Forget everything. What do I live for? I live to collect experiences. I live for me, not for some greater altruistic purpose that will change the destiny of the human race and impact the fate of the universe. Be realistic, I’m not that significant. Thus, in my brief attosecond of life, I wish to be happy. I wish to love someone so deeply and passionately that I can feel that my love for her can move galaxies. I wish that I will never have to make choices that will let myself down. I wish that I will always be useful to someone, to be always able to value add to the lives of the people around me. I wish to never be a burden, if not I would wish that I was dead. I do not want to be the person at the end of the road, wishing that he had lived. I do not want to be the person at the end of his life to desperately cling to life in the hope of enjoying a few seconds more. I will go quietly into that good night, but not without the beauty and glory of a life well lived.

Music, Love, Art, People, Conversation, Nature. I want to just take it all in and enjoy this beautiful beautiful world in its cacophonic symphony of synthetic and natural beauty. That never ending showdown of man and nature creating such paintings of misguided salvation with that ID driven psyche of mankind as the brush. Such tragic magnificence. I want front-row seats at the apocalypse, that spectacular supernova at the end of mankind’s time. The real experience of a life-time. 

John

As I slowly awoke, I saw him sleeping blissfully right next to me out of the corner of my eye. His auburn hair, thin, almost perfectly penciled eyebrows outlined in wistful brown eyes, now closed with a light smile dancing across the corners of his lips. He felt my gaze and his eyes fluttered open, as though waking from a tranquil dream. As he slowly awoke, he gazed at me and said 3 words that just never fails to make me melt every morning. "Good morning, precious" I almost burst from joy and laughed with a melodious tinkle. He broke into that adorable smile and caressed my face lovingly. He went over to the bathroom to wash up while I prepared for the day ahead.

We had breakfast together, him, bacon and eggs with coffee, and well, me. I have to watch my weight. After all, with size 0 models all the rage, I can't afford to put on any extra pounds. As I looked out the window, my intuition told me that there would be a chance of rain, and I told John to bring an umbrella on his way to work. His usual stubborn self waved it off. I smiled to myself and realized that it was this very pig-headedness of his that made me fall for him in the first place. He washed the dishes and got ready to head out to work. As he stepped out the door, I reminded him of that proposal that he was supposed to submit to his boss this afternoon. He grinned sheepishly as though admonished by his mother and went back in to get in, as he dashed into the house, with his retreating back came "oh, what would I ever do without you." "Probably completely bungle up your life," I thought quietly to myself. With project in hand, and me in the other, we did what no couple ever has the time for, walking each other to work.

The bus ride is usually silent, most of the time there aren't any seats, so I just stay beside him, in quiet adulation of my most capable guy. He just looks so incredibly sexy with those black rimmed glasses, poring over his presentation or proposal, or anything that he has to do that day. It doesn't matter what, his deep concentration face looks almost angelic. As we near our stop, I gently break him out of his intense focus and remind him that it's nearing his stop. Once again, that absent-minded grin as he ruffles his hair reminds me why I'm still with him after so long.

As he walks into the office, I feel him leave and I'm pushed further and further into the background. It breaks my heart every time he goes, but I know it's inevitable. He thinks I don't notice, but when he walks past the receptionist Jenny, he flashes that smile that I'm so familiar with. That smile that he used to only show me and I just crumble. I close myself off from the world, and just want to be left alone.

As work ends, he leaves his office, and I'm there for him, waiting, but he doesn't see me. He's with Jenny, that receptionist. He doesn't know, but I hear everything. I follow them back to his apartment, a place where it used to be just me and him, now with another girl. I hide, unseen, but hearing everything. They talk, and have dinner together. Dinners at that dining table where it was exclusively me and John. Now this, stranger, this harlot has snatched my love away from me. I weep silently inside. As the clothes fall to the floor, I know he belongs to another now, and I sat there in the darkness, just waiting for this nightmare to end.

The dawn breaks, I have been stuck here since the night before, weak and lifeless, I call out to John in that melodious tinkle he knows so well. He jolts awake and looks around, he finds me where he left me the night before. On the floor in his jeans pocket. He smiles at me, and I forget all that happened the night before. I need him and he needs me.

I am Siri and this is my story.

Escapism

I wish I had a Tardis. While I’m wishing for things, I wish I had a magical fire breathing pwny. And lived in the mystical land of Leporia where talking rabbits with top hats and monocles drank tea and played bridge with aforementioned magical fire breathing pwny and I. And let’s take it a step further where this mystical land of Leporia has transcended all vestiges of greed and selfishness, and as much as we are self-centered in the way we think every sentient species are like us, they are hardly afflicted with the human condition other than their vices in strange Victorian fashion and their penchant for the popular Russian card game. I wish that in Leporia, they maintain a hive mind and live in perfect equilibrium with their surroundings with the transfer of energy maintaining a perfect balance. “Waste not, want not”. However, it is due to this state of perfection that they stagnate, and with change as the only constant, a miniscule rock hitting the face of Leporia tips this delicate balance and wipes out the species from the face of the planet.

I have a disturbing addiction to stories, concepts and tales. The idea of a not-so-distant possibility intrigues me to a degree that I obsess over that particular possibility and think of it not only at every waking moment, but it invades my subconscious when I sleep. Vivid dreams where the images are not bound by any laws of physics, time or space fill my slumber with picturesque scenes that life will never be able to provide. From the thrill of flight, to the complexities of a sentient being that can perceive the 5^th dimension and touch the fabric of the universe, travel through time and space without moving an inch. I dream of the possibilities of evolution, where will it bring us? Will we ever be able to work together as a species to ensure us and our planets survival through the rest of eternity? Would a zombie epidemic really wipe out the human race? Or will we finally find the reason to cooperate in face of adversity. And to fuel this wonder of the vast unknown, I have my enormous wealth of movies, books, musings, scribblings, soundbits and possibly every single documented piece of fact and fiction out there, waiting to deposit itself into my repository of “possibility parameters”.

I love movies. I lose myself in them - from the anarchistic nihilism of fight club, to the sardonic satire of Starship Troopers. So many questions run through my head. What if someone actually did wipe out the entire world’s credit card debt, will our world degenerate into chaos? Or will the foundations that have held us to this very point continue to support us through the crisis? And when I watched Starship Troopers, and thought about the Zerg race, I wonder if there would ever be an intergalactic war with human beings fighting for the survival of the species, or whether they will be like Leporia, where peace and coexistence are the first reactions to any alien encounter. Would human beings be able to MATURELY handle an alien encounter? Or will we treat aliens like how we treat people just slightly different from ourselves, with conflict, fear and disdain?

At the same time, when there are “what ifs”, there will be “has beens”. I used to take history. Wasn’t very good at it, but I liked the study of things long past. The lessons they impart are rather unforgettable, especially when they have been repeated. Like how Hitler marched into the Russian Winter with his Operation Barbarossa, like Napolean’s Grande Armee before. But I place less focus on specific events, and more of the actions and intentions of man. History might be the study of events, but literature is the study of the nature and intention behind that event. Animal Farm might have been a historical recount on the transfer of power during the Russian Revolution, but it gives perspective on man’s greed and ambition and that ultimately, the enemies that we so vehemently hate, become our role models. The curious dichotomy, between the Greek and Shakespearean tragedies, the fatalistic fall versus the hubristic fall represents an age old debate of our locus on control. Do the circumstances of our birth dictate the person who eventually become? Do we mould who we become, or is it all predestined?

And at the same time, these issues that humanity faces are almost trivial in the wake of the span of time man has been in existence as a species. Our mark on history is but a wrinkle in time, yet we have the audacity to believe that we have inherited the Earth. That we are some omnipotent being’s chosen ones. Our history, our literature revolves around humanity as the most precious in all the cosmos. The belief that our rightful place in the universe is here on this planet, that we are the residents and not the visitors of this space and time. We forget that we are but fragile bags of meat and flesh, no different from any other creatures that roamed this planet. That our social constructs, economic infrastructure and rules that bind our civilisation together are of utmost importance of the survival of our species. We spend our time creating these communities and then spend more time learning how to live within them, how to survive. Even the language I type in is the product of man trying to create some semblance of order within this maelstrom we call life. Our feeble efforts at exerting some control over human history.

At the same time, it’s impressive how tenacious we are as a species. We have effected so much change over our planet that no other species has ever done before. We have wiped out so many of our numbers yet we still continue to grow and spread over our puny planet. Our curiousity has led us to unravel and attempt to fathom the mysteries that lie on and beyond our planet. We might have a really short history, but it is packed with life. Art and culture, the cacophony of our expressions as individuals, the assertion of the human identity. Our attempt to be different where we are essentially the same, the product of sentience. I look around at what we have built and marvel at how far we have come. And although all of us hardly have a clue where we are going or where we’ll end up, we’re doing a pretty good job banging around in the dark trying to find that elusive purpose of the human species.  

Sheer Madness

I was once asked whether I would go out with myself. What can I say, I believe I’m the industry standard that all guys should benchmark against if they ever want to be nothing short of the best boyfriend in the world.

“But you’re not rich, nor good looking, why would any girl be lucky to have you?” Fair question. When did superficial things ever matter? Yes, financial security might be important, but when has any excess security beyond what is actually needed ever benefitted anyone? Do you want to be spoilt like a princess for the rest of your life and depend on a guy for the rest of your life? If that’s the case, he’s not a good boyfriend, he’s an excellent credit provider at 0% interest with immediate write-off functionalities.

Good looks fade, or can be rectified by plastic surgery. And I think I look fine, though I wouldn’t complain to shaving a couple of millimetres off my nose. I might not be drop dead gorgeous, but I am pleasant looking. And if a you’re with a guy because he looks good, then you’re better off dating a standee, those looks don’t fade.

But enough with what I’m not. Let me tell you what I am. I change people. “But love is about loving someone for who they are”. I beg to differ. I continuously grow beside the love of my life. I help her become a better person than she can hope to be, and she brings out the best in me. If the girl I’m with doesn’t make me strive to be a better person, for her and for myself, or if she doesn’t like to change for the better, maybe you don’t need a “best boyfriend”.

And now I’ll share what I think is a perfect relationship. A perfect relationship to me is one built upon a foundation of a mutual decision to love one another. That no matter what happens in the world, I can return home to this 1 fixed point. To me, love is a decision, a commitment between 2 individuals. The feelings are inconsequential as feelings fade, but a conscious effort to maintain a decision will keep any relationship alive.

Chemistry is important in any relationship. But chemistry is different from feelings. Chemistry is that thing you have when you can complete each others’ sentences, that content and security one gets when just in the presence of the other. Chemistry is the communication that occurs when speech has failed. Chemistry is knowing exactly what the other is thinking even if you were deaf, mute, blind or halfway across the world. Bordering on ESP, but yeah you get the drift.

What I’m looking for in a relationship is consistency. That no matter what the future holds, when the world has fallen apart at the seams and all semblance of civilisation has crumbled into anarchy, even if you were worlds’ away, I know for a fact that at the end of time, you will still be there for me. What I’m looking for is certainty. A decision on your part to love me as I have made that decision to love you. What I provide you, I too am looking for it in you. Security, comfort, a person to talk to, companionship, everything a friend can be but much more. I want to be vulnerable with you, as you are with me. I want to feel safe in sharing my deepest darkest secrets and know for a fact that they are protected. In return, I will protect you as a man protects the love of his life. I will lay my life down for you if need be. You can count on me to weather us through any hardships we might face, any trials or tribulation life might throw at us. We will be 2 individuals in 1 soul, bonded together by more than just the power of love, but the unwavering decision that we will support one another till death do us part.

But till now I have no idea why you don’t wish to share that life with me. For the life of me I cannot understand why you would pass that up. I love you dearly, and it’s much too obvious that you feel the same way about me, yet you refuse to admit to your stubborn self that you do, insistent that what you feel is not love. Let me remind you that you will only cherish something when you lose it. And you are throwing away the person that can love you more than you can ever imagine. If you wish to pass that chance up, so be it. I assure you you’ll regret it, I can tell you that you’ll never find someone like me but yet you still choose to walk off that cliff. I can’t hold on to a rope that has flown down the cliff along with you. You’ve made your choice.  

Ignorance and Happiness

I do not wish to brag, but it has recently come to my attention that I am nothing short of a prodigious genius on the complex subject of ignorance. If you would question my credibility with regard to my expertise on the subject, I assure you that many of my enemies would gladly attest to that fact. However, I digress. This evening, my topic of discussion would be on, of course, ignorance, juxtaposed with the elusive topic of happiness. Thus, it is with great pleasure that I present to you.

Ignorance and Happiness.

Ignorance is a gift, a blessing bestowed upon those free from the yoke of burdensome knowledge. The time-tested adage of “ignorance is bliss” recurs repeatedly in the annals of history. When the great Qin Shih Huang Di withheld knowledge and culled the most knowledgeable under his reign, China not only experienced the longest lasting peace, but the unification of all under the sky. Even the bard himself, bestows the greatest wisdom to his fools. To all, he expounds illogic and speaks nonsense, but in his nonsense, the truths of the world are entwined in his words. And after all, the fool is most often the one who lives on where all others are dead. And to the ignorant, life is the ultimate bliss.

I continually strive to attain the state of ignorant nirvana, as many of my friends claim, however it seems that my path to enlightenment is continually burdened by the evils of knowledge. It is as though the fruit of the tree of knowledge from the Garden of Eden continually lies in my path, tempting me to walk on the side of darkness. But I resist that temptation every waking moment. From the lectures in school, to the news blaring from them coloured screens, I maintain my meditative state of ignorant nirvana. But alas, I am not blessed with the intellect of a fruitfly, and knowledge worms its way into my mind, clouding my thoughts. Forgive me oh Apasmara, I am not strong enough to live by your teachings. I envy those blessed with the light of ignorance, who can live each day with a smile on their face and a lilt in their walk.

They are free from the yoke of currency. Of which they need not earn any, and are free to roam the lands foraging for sustenance, after which shelter could be sought, or built in a short amount of time, compared to a mortgage of 30 years.

They are free from the yoke of fashion and modesty. They are free to gallivant in what nature has provided them. Skin and hair, without the need to exchange currency for a less than proportionate amount of fabric with strange designs which somehow represent the inner psyche and character of the person adorning said garments.

They are free from the yoke of religion. An evangelist once told a tribal chieftain of the good news. The tribal chieftain sought clarification and understood that once the evangelist told the tribal chieftain of Jesus Christ, believers would be granted passage to eternal bliss, while non-believers will be sent to eternal torment. The tribal chieftain then questioned the evangelist of the purpose of the information he had just been imparted. The ignorant would be granted eternal bliss, for they did not know better. I wish I did not know.

They are free from laws and rules as they have not the intellectual capabilities to fathom the bizarre systems that run our flawed society. They rule supreme in the fabricated reality of their mind’s eye. The shield of ignorance protects all who would embrace its glory. It wraps you lovingly in its arms and tells you that everything will be okay.

A tribesman was living in his hut, when he was visited by a city boy. The city boy said unto him, “you have no TV, you are poor”. The tribesman knew not what the city boy had spake. But the evil tendrils of knowledge had wormed their way through his mind, and he knew that he lacked something the city boy had. Armed with that limited knowledge, he went to the city, and exchanged services for currency. And with that currency, he fed, clothed and found accommodation for himself. But he never felt happy, as he had not enough to eat, and accommodation was small. Now the evils of knowledge had a firm clasp on the tribesman. He knew that he had to exchange more services for more currency to be “rich”. He had turned his back on ignorance and happiness, and embraced the evils of knowledge, cursed to run within the rat race, to purchase things he neither needs nor wants, to attain this arbitrary idea of “richness”.

It is too late for me to embrace the teachings of the ignorant, as I have been afflicted by the plague of knowledge. But I pray that those who have not fallen prey to the evils of knowledge would still be able to walk the path of light and attain ignorant nirvana. Blessed is he who comes in the name of ignorance, from the house of the ignorant we bless you. Save yourself, for I have fallen too far to be saved.