"You sound like a poet."
So I said,
"For you, I hope I always do!"
You make my mind's choir sing,
Set my heart aflame, aloft.
For you, my coarse, stark utterances
Transform upon my tongue.
Into the very best eloquence
my lips may command.
You set my desire aflame.
Change my quill's strokes
On vellum soft.
First gentled, tender, questioning
To bold, confident, glorious!
Pan himself would weep
Upon descriptions of thy pulchritude
If mere wordy metaphor
conveyed the proper essence
Of any feelings reserved just for you.
And so, she said:
"I just meant you rhymed a lot."
So I said:
"Thanks, that's really cute."
Today I set up a writing nook, where I can create lovely documents such as this journal entry.
Really all I mean is that I've cleared a space where I can put my iPad, because turning on my computer would be far too much effort while I feel this unwell.
I haven't been this sick literally in years. On the way to the medical centre this morning I was wondering aloud when the last time I needed transport to a doctor's appointment was -- my mother and I agreed it was five years ago. So I suppose that's a good run without any infections.
Mind you this is a doozy. I'm taking 500mg Amoxycillin 3 times a day for the next ten days in the hope that will help evict the micro-organisms squatting inside my head.
Also another disbelief from Apple. The Apple Wireless Keyboard CAPSLOCK key. Good grief, cruise control for cool is OFF when the LED is ON?
I suppose this is just par for Apple's course. I've described the experience of buying Apple products as akin being suckered:
"Buy this hardware; it's ever so sexy!"
"Wow, so sleek... so expensive... I must own you!"
"Did I mention, the very instant you unbox me, you'll be punished?"
"Perhaps I can live with that, because of your incredible look and feel..."
"As soon as you turn me on, you'll discover impaired functionality, with no way of fixing it, improving it, or complaining about it."
"Don't worry baby, we'll stage a jailbreak. It'll be just you and me, sipping Mohitos on a secluded beach somewhere."
Richard Stallman mentioned that Apple was the pioneer company of putting their users into what he describes as "software jail" and even with Google coring the functional elements of iOS by releasing their own free products on Apple's App Store, Apple just can't seem to get out of their own road.
Apple's iOS design mentality is the equivalent of the guy who was drinking whiskey while cleaning his gun, and predictably shot himself in the leg. Then kept cleaning his gun, and shot himself again. THEN called an ambulance, kept cleaning his gun, and shot himself a third time before it arrived.
Every time Apple releases an iOS update I'm reminded of the Canadian newspaper headline "Woman hits moose driving to visit sister who hit moose", the avoidable mistakes they continue to make at the HCI design level are repeated so much.
So why am I still using their hardware?
Well, because it's ever so sexy, and the outlaw life beckons its crooked finger in my direction.
If today is the first day of the rest of your life; is tomorrow the first day of the end of your life?
That'd be interesting, because of tomorrow never coming and all.
Since I'm slightly delirious, I'm currently wondering what is professional incompetence worth? Would charging for ineptitude be some sort of false economy?
Additionally, if you're using the iOS LJ app and have a keyboard connected, you CANNOT POST (an entry with any content) until you disconnect the keyboard... wow. I blame Apple and their ludicrous UI decisions regarding iOS HCI's. >_<
Everyone must work.
Except people who can't.
Do you really want to work with people who don't want to?
People who work because they desire freedom have missed the point of work--which truly is the lofty goal of noble purpose.
The downtrodden workers of these mean streets pursue a fleeting dream. Unfortunately, the dream sought is not the fulfilment work itself provides, but a myth we are conditioned to pursue incessantly. The same way greyhounds are trained to chase the whirling bait around and around an endless oval of racetrack.
Human lives are like pebbles cast into a vast pool. The waves flowing outward from the pebbles are the ripples of our works, and we call this momentary impact "permanence". How then, in our universal ocean of uncaringly turbulent change do we find enough noble purpose to continue?
Our ever-multiplying selfish genes?
Our baser motivations?
These are as empty as if your life's pebble were cast into a dark pit and are bereft of integrity; purpose.
Regardless of purpose, in our universe it certainly seems all living entities possessing an ego will eventually meet the same fate.
"To fear death, my friends, is to think ourselves wise, when we are in fact unwise. It is to think we know that which we do not know." -Socrates
So I bequeath to you, dear reader, all my fear and loneliness. Humanity's failures have caused my abdication of this yoke and mantle. I will never again participate in human foolishness. I will never work for foolish human purposes over noble, actual purpose. Until we treat our sicknesses, I will only ever advocate our destruction, for in our current form we are a blight confined (happily) to our parent Earth when we are meant to be a light to our universe. Too much is wrong with our unhappily inbred species for us to solve in our present state.
When astronomers find a celestial body's orbit brings it within close proximity to earth we all breathe in to hear tell of it in collective anticipation--as if by our expectations of annihilation alone we will be freed in an instant from our collective prison. We all pay close attention when meteorites strike because no clearer heavenly indication of displeasure can be made to us all. And yet, we live.
The universe is not so kind as to put us out of its misery. It appears we have yet to discover our purpose, which will never be clear as long as we remain so primitive in understanding. You must shoulder my burdens if you are to rise to your true callings.
Today is my birthday. I hope I got what I wanted, but it could prove difficult to tell as it pertains to other people.
Last night I saw Euripides' "Medea", which merged ancient dramatic tragedy perfectly with my mood, thanks to Zen Zen Zo production company and all who encouraged me to attend. I'm very glad I went. :)
After a relaxing morning I went to lovely picnics in the park with beautiful friends I have neglected to see nearly often enough before visiting Rana and Xavier.
Few fits of tears today. Best one was when Xavier gave me a birthday present of liquorice allsorts and a handmade card--I was emotionally overcome. He drew a picture of him playing an xbox360 game; love you Xavi :)
So choose to let thy blessings flow outwards, for love is sacrifice.
In our infinitely powerful, merciful universe, they may even flow back.
What are you saying?
Each of us comes to some awareness of being knowing who we are, and what we are supposed to do.
Small children know. Only after adults have confused them with their own aspirations do children hide this knowledge even from themselves.
So choose to know yourself, uncover your truth!
The present is distraction; the future a dream.
Only our memories, the sums of our existence, can unlock true meaning and real purpose for each life.
Still, such kludged metaphors are foolishness. Without the anguished, wordless experience of the spirit in response to life; every existence lacks meaning.
I bought a snazzy new white ski jacket this morning. This afternoon, I watched a YouTube video of a snowboarding accident, where a man was buried alive for over four minutes in an avalanche of snow. Spent the entire length of the video pondering that white is probably the worst possible colour choice for a ski jacket.