Wednesday, 24 December 2008

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.


Christmas. 

The time for gratuitous purchasing of pointless pieces, time for exhibitions of consumerist mentality on a par with ungovernable frenzy. Regardless of the fact that these annual proceedings of a rather ridiculous nature are key to the structure of our society, I keep cogitating on how far this particular mentality is to be carried into other aspects of our lives. The concept of regarding virtually everything and anyone as objects that have the ability to complete our existence makes me green around the gills. 

I've listened to countless people listing objectives they want to achieve in their lives. Certain items that they imagine will turn their futile little lives into something the neighbours will envy. A flourishing career, an apartment (owned, of course, not rented), the fastest car on the block, a perfect husband that never forgets their birthday or anniversary, and a litter of beautiful, talented and successful children. All annexes to make them feel more significant. 

There is something that rings false in that list. Considering someone, an actual person, a simple extension of your ideal self cannot be anything but horribly wrong. Against a moral imperative not to exploit another human being to achieve something for yourself. Listing attributes of the perfect potential husband is in no way dissimilar to knowing exactly what colour car you see yourself buying and driving around town in. "I think I'd look fabulous next to a tall, dark and slightly muscular man with a good sense of humour." You meet a person, not a boyfriend. You can't dream about having a boyfriend, because you've never met them; if you do, they will never be anything but an accessory to you.

The things you think of eating your Christmas morning porridge.


Men ibland 
är det enkelt
man ser 
hur den kommer
sen känner man smällen

allt ont 
man har sett
alla råden 
man har gett
inte hjälper 
dom mig nu

jag anade aldrig
att frihet
och ensamhet

är samma sak.

Tuesday, 16 December 2008

Huokaillen.

you are 
so far
the one who 
makes me better
in your surroundings
I'm the one
I want to be.

Sunday, 14 December 2008

Enlightenment.

I haven't made it an effortless task for anyone to impact me, reach me, teach me. If anyone ever would get past the outer wall and even beyond the moat, there are always archers armed with flaming arrows and buckets of tar awaiting.

- not anymore. The barricades have been torn to the ground, moats filled and my trusted archers got their Christmas furlough they had been pinning there hopes on. (I'm still keeping the dragon, to be on the safe side.)

For the first time, in too long a time, I really feel liberated of myself. I, like I've mentioned before, have several voices in my head, some bellowing, others whispering. I haven't yet quite mastered to tell them apart. For some time now, the bellowing ones have been summoning all of my attention. I feel, however, that the whispering voices are not to be left unnoticed; that they are, dare I say, significantly more essential for my well being, as well as nurturing for the desired development of an educated and erudite mind. I will, in the light of my recent catharsis, let the subtle whispers of my mind come into my consciousness from now on.  

The liberation was brought on by yet another one of those days. A day on which I, somewhat instinctively it seems, seek to isolate and detach myself from all others. It may take on a form of physical seclusion, where I simply shy away from human contact by staying at home and under covers. On the other hand, if this option is not convenient for the time being, I might intentionally, to withdraw myself from others, resort to outright malicious remarks; which will grant me the opportunity to escape into my own little stronghold of sorts, behind my moats and archers.

Differing from most of days like these, yesterday my seemingly infallible vanishing act did not go according to plan. I was caught in the act, so to speak. Which resulted in mentioned catharsis and complete breakdown, in the middle of which I realized how confined and imprisoned I have been. I have caged myself, reducing myself to something far less impressive than I am capable of at best. Which, of course, will not do.

When the student is ready, the teacher appears. So thank you.

Thursday, 11 December 2008

Hiljaisuus.

liian usein
kaipaan niitä hetkiä
et saisin yksin nukahtaa
ja herätä
ei tarvis' jännittää
ja sisimpäänsä selvittää
kun ei sitä ymmärrä
itsekkään

mä tiedän sun on
vaikee ymmärtää
haluan sun lähelle
mutten että kosket
ja voi,
kuin se riittäisi sullekkin
niin tää kaikki vois jatkuu
paljon helpommin

mulle tämä syvä hiljaisuus
on parempi kuin huono valhe uus
en voi sanoo suorakaan
et joo edelleeen ahdistaa
kun me sitä jäätäis sitten kelaamaan

mut hei ei tää oo
helppoo mullekkaan
mä en vaan pysty sanomaan
mikä mieltä painaa
ja mä tiedän ettet
jaksa kovinkaan kauaa

tää hiljaisuus
taitaa meidät tappaa.


There are simply no words left to utter. I am weary of this. I am angry.
Angry.

Furious.


Seething; to the extent I did not believe I was capable of.


(Thankfully, I am going home soon enough.)

Monday, 1 December 2008

The Flame Beyond The Cold Mountain.


I will not succumb to this. I might as well assign some sort of machine to perform my daily tasks, allowing me to remain in the domain that is my own, my lair, my home. Nothing is required of me here. There is no need for apologies and explanations. 

Then again, how would I evolve if I should obtain a state of complete desolation? Peace is found in solitude, surely, but can one truly continue down the arduous path of self exploration without ever being compelled to question one's thoughts and ideas? True wisdom consists in knowing that you know nothing, indubitably; but if my thoughts are the only ones residing in my mind there will never arise any occasion to cast aspersions on them. 

I shall conquer myself.

Skyscrapers
and spacerockets
tend to leave me cold
man can walk
upon the moon
to gather dust like gold
and I am only bored

seven-forty-sevens
just make a bigger roar
and fancy homes
are gaudy tombs
really nothing more

quite easily ignored.



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