I bring myself into a situation which I find difficult, yet amusing. I am forcing myself to write. I don't know what I am going to write about, I simply intend to have written approximately 1 to 2 pages when I am done, as was dictated to me as an assignment by my professor. I usually try to go into these journals with some sense of topic or theme, but this time I have nothing.
I remember in highschool, I took a creative writing class. My teacher told us that we should write. Not surprising I know, but he told us to simply write about anything, or nothing, or maybe both at the same time. He said it was just an exercise in writing. Free writing is what he called, which I now understand to be a common term and practice. At the time however, this was a new idea for me, and I found it interesting. So I did exactly what he asked us to do. I just wrote.
This was also a time when the blog was coming to fruition, and I was happy to jump on the band wagon. I used my blog as a vehicle to perform this free writing, and I found myself enjoying it greatly. I found it an excellent way to bring about your own thoughts, and help to understand yourself. On top of that, I was getting m homework done while enjoying myself, just as I am doing now. Pretty clever eh? So I think of this journal, without topic or intension, to be an exercise in free writing.
It's a beautiful day today. Truly beautiful. While comments on the weather seem like something I would only mention while I couldn't think of anything else to say, I am actually take back by the present state of the outdoors. I stepped outside to buy myself some lunch, and since I had last been outside, the clouds had parted, the sun had broken through, and the temperature had warmed up to a pleasant spring-cool. Despite this, it's fall, and will soon be winter. This is going to be the most beautiful day for the rest of the year. The air is sweet, and the breeze is mild. Here on in, it's nothing but bitter cold. Damn you Ottawa.
Never will this day bee here again. This event, the irregularly attractive weather on this day will never happen again. Like I said, this will be the most beautiful day we ever have again this year. But is that really significant? How does the mark of the year divide the beautiful weather we are having now, from th beautiful weather we will have come spring? I guess it really doesn't. The passage of time is nothing more then X's on a calender. I understand and feel this moment however. This moment, the euphoric feeling I get when I breath in the fresh air blowing through th window, I will never feel that wind in the exact same way again. This I understand. Time, time on the other hand is completely relative. I don't know why I first compared this day in relation to the rest of the year. I guess because I am conditioned to time. Just as most humans are conditioned to time. I have a beef with time, because I understand that it is relative. All things that exist are relative. In fact, things are probably even relative to existence. Okay, so maybe I don' know what I am talking about. Einstein was a man you should listen to, seriously, he is almost as important as dead Greek guys, he gets it.
Time is an invention. It's something that we have created in order to schedule our lives, decided on when we meet, when we sleep, when we eat, when we work and when we play. Time is our own invention, yet we are slaves to it. Humans have no natural enemies except ourselves. Yes, ourselves, and the things which we create. Time is one of these enemies. It gives us deadlines and endings. It gives us a feeling of limitation, of panic towards an inevitability. Time pisses me off.
I have no idea what I was watching, or what country they were talking about, but I saw a television program about a year ago who talked about a people who knew no time. This stuck with me. They were a somewhat tribal group of people, however, less so then you might imagine. They were simple I guess you could sa. Living each day simply dedicated to survival, but they had a great deal of modern conveniences, and were far from isolated from the outside world. They were a large group of people, living on islands which had distance between them. Distance great enough to allow separate communities to develop on separate islands, yet close enough so that they encompassed a single culture, and could travel between the islands with small row boats.
The thing that interested me about these people is that they had no word for goodbye, no word for hello, and nothing in their vocabulary which dictated the distance from one event tot another. There were no days and nights, only sun rise and sun set. Even these were not counted. They simply knew no time. The people of the islands would regularly travel to the neighbouring islands for purposes of trade and exchange. These journeys would not take months, but thy would take days, and there was non telling when the boatmen would return from their journeys. Despite this, they still had no word for goodbye. When a young trader embarked his somewhat dangerous journey, he would not have to say goodbye to his family, he would simply tell them that he was leaving. The family knew that one day the trader would return, or die on his journey, and not return. They did not know when he would return, as they had no connection to time, or desire to count the days that their family member was gone. They accepted the consequences of what these traders were doing, and just waited for them to come back. It didn't matter when it happened. Whatever would happened, would happen when it did. It can be hard to think of a world without time, and without goodbyes, but seemingly it exists. Tasks are simply performed when they need to be. If something must be done sooner then later, then that is when it is done. I thought this was an interesting way of life. Probably one which has much less stressful then our own. So, is a life with less stress more happy? I guess we could easily compare and say "well, we don't need to worry about how clean our water is" or "we don't need to work the earth for our food". We don't, do we? I don't know which is a better life. I can only assume that the grass is always greener on the other side. I am sure any one of these villagers would jump at the chance to sleep in my comfortable bed. Non the less, this seemed like an interesting world to me. One without time. That is unless these families who let their boys go off to trade on boats do nothing but spend their life worrying if their family is ever going to come home. Then it's just fucked. But if not, no one gives these people a watch okay? Your just going to make things a bigger pain in the ass.
Well, it appears my attempt at free writing did result in some topic issues. Too bad most of them were just me yammering pseudo-philosophical bullshit without making any actually conclusion. Maybe I am having genuinely insightful thoughts, and can't quite build the words to express them. Either that or I am just a rage filled youth who wants to be mad at something, but can't pin point what that something is. You tell me, because it's obvious from this journal that I don't have the answers.
I remember in highschool, I took a creative writing class. My teacher told us that we should write. Not surprising I know, but he told us to simply write about anything, or nothing, or maybe both at the same time. He said it was just an exercise in writing. Free writing is what he called, which I now understand to be a common term and practice. At the time however, this was a new idea for me, and I found it interesting. So I did exactly what he asked us to do. I just wrote.
This was also a time when the blog was coming to fruition, and I was happy to jump on the band wagon. I used my blog as a vehicle to perform this free writing, and I found myself enjoying it greatly. I found it an excellent way to bring about your own thoughts, and help to understand yourself. On top of that, I was getting m homework done while enjoying myself, just as I am doing now. Pretty clever eh? So I think of this journal, without topic or intension, to be an exercise in free writing.
It's a beautiful day today. Truly beautiful. While comments on the weather seem like something I would only mention while I couldn't think of anything else to say, I am actually take back by the present state of the outdoors. I stepped outside to buy myself some lunch, and since I had last been outside, the clouds had parted, the sun had broken through, and the temperature had warmed up to a pleasant spring-cool. Despite this, it's fall, and will soon be winter. This is going to be the most beautiful day for the rest of the year. The air is sweet, and the breeze is mild. Here on in, it's nothing but bitter cold. Damn you Ottawa.
Never will this day bee here again. This event, the irregularly attractive weather on this day will never happen again. Like I said, this will be the most beautiful day we ever have again this year. But is that really significant? How does the mark of the year divide the beautiful weather we are having now, from th beautiful weather we will have come spring? I guess it really doesn't. The passage of time is nothing more then X's on a calender. I understand and feel this moment however. This moment, the euphoric feeling I get when I breath in the fresh air blowing through th window, I will never feel that wind in the exact same way again. This I understand. Time, time on the other hand is completely relative. I don't know why I first compared this day in relation to the rest of the year. I guess because I am conditioned to time. Just as most humans are conditioned to time. I have a beef with time, because I understand that it is relative. All things that exist are relative. In fact, things are probably even relative to existence. Okay, so maybe I don' know what I am talking about. Einstein was a man you should listen to, seriously, he is almost as important as dead Greek guys, he gets it.
Time is an invention. It's something that we have created in order to schedule our lives, decided on when we meet, when we sleep, when we eat, when we work and when we play. Time is our own invention, yet we are slaves to it. Humans have no natural enemies except ourselves. Yes, ourselves, and the things which we create. Time is one of these enemies. It gives us deadlines and endings. It gives us a feeling of limitation, of panic towards an inevitability. Time pisses me off.
I have no idea what I was watching, or what country they were talking about, but I saw a television program about a year ago who talked about a people who knew no time. This stuck with me. They were a somewhat tribal group of people, however, less so then you might imagine. They were simple I guess you could sa. Living each day simply dedicated to survival, but they had a great deal of modern conveniences, and were far from isolated from the outside world. They were a large group of people, living on islands which had distance between them. Distance great enough to allow separate communities to develop on separate islands, yet close enough so that they encompassed a single culture, and could travel between the islands with small row boats.
The thing that interested me about these people is that they had no word for goodbye, no word for hello, and nothing in their vocabulary which dictated the distance from one event tot another. There were no days and nights, only sun rise and sun set. Even these were not counted. They simply knew no time. The people of the islands would regularly travel to the neighbouring islands for purposes of trade and exchange. These journeys would not take months, but thy would take days, and there was non telling when the boatmen would return from their journeys. Despite this, they still had no word for goodbye. When a young trader embarked his somewhat dangerous journey, he would not have to say goodbye to his family, he would simply tell them that he was leaving. The family knew that one day the trader would return, or die on his journey, and not return. They did not know when he would return, as they had no connection to time, or desire to count the days that their family member was gone. They accepted the consequences of what these traders were doing, and just waited for them to come back. It didn't matter when it happened. Whatever would happened, would happen when it did. It can be hard to think of a world without time, and without goodbyes, but seemingly it exists. Tasks are simply performed when they need to be. If something must be done sooner then later, then that is when it is done. I thought this was an interesting way of life. Probably one which has much less stressful then our own. So, is a life with less stress more happy? I guess we could easily compare and say "well, we don't need to worry about how clean our water is" or "we don't need to work the earth for our food". We don't, do we? I don't know which is a better life. I can only assume that the grass is always greener on the other side. I am sure any one of these villagers would jump at the chance to sleep in my comfortable bed. Non the less, this seemed like an interesting world to me. One without time. That is unless these families who let their boys go off to trade on boats do nothing but spend their life worrying if their family is ever going to come home. Then it's just fucked. But if not, no one gives these people a watch okay? Your just going to make things a bigger pain in the ass.
Well, it appears my attempt at free writing did result in some topic issues. Too bad most of them were just me yammering pseudo-philosophical bullshit without making any actually conclusion. Maybe I am having genuinely insightful thoughts, and can't quite build the words to express them. Either that or I am just a rage filled youth who wants to be mad at something, but can't pin point what that something is. You tell me, because it's obvious from this journal that I don't have the answers.