Former Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto

I know nothing. And furthermore, I know even less about Pakistani politics. Bhutto returns to her home after years of self imposed exile, to tries and usurp, or even some speculate, jointly run the country with, Musharraf'. And naturally she is assasinated within three weeks of her return. Thanks to NPR, I had come to a fairly kind mental image of Bhutto, due to the many, upon many, interviews she did with World News. When i heard of her death, i was naturally saddened, and immediately overcome with fear, and the only name that kept running thru my head was, Franz Ferdinand. But all that paranoia passed and whether we are on the verge of WWIII has yet to be seen. This is not with this post is about.

No.

What this post is about, is the worthlessness of human beings; not observed from the barbaric form of political competition, but more from an article i read from a reputable online news source. It seemed to me that the central idea of this article was this; Scotland Yard had concluded that the reason Bhutto died was due a sever head injury caused by her slamming her head into the side of what was apparently a sun roof, however, the Pakistan People's Party refuse to believe such allegations because they think that SY hadn't had enough access to all the evidence at hand and thusly did not have sound proof that this was the case. Instead the PPP adamantly insists that she was shot in the head.

Now why the debate of how she died. Why get into an arguement about the logistics of death. She died as consequence to a violent action. Apparently dieing by gunshot wound to the head comes with more political clout than a simple blunt force trauma to the head.

I refuse to even make a real comentary on the state of humanity. I will end with this, a lovely quote from the creator of Calvin and Hobbes.

“Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us.” - Bill Waterson

Once lost but now am found

I took a long break from the questions that haunt my mind. Drugs seem to be a great escape. And for a while I embraced everything existential. I loved living and letting live. Being completely nonjudgemental and "chill" for lack of a better term. However this chillness bred complacency, and before when illogicality and immorality destroyed me, now I swallowed it whole without flinching.

Recently I realized that I do not want to be complacent. The recent meeting with the modernist woke my brain up. Altogether it was on the verge of waking. Perhaps he was just the catalyst. The king of Salem if you will. The original points of views that I had, the original dreams, that I chose to disregard for a life of work (or lack there of) and consumerism, are now back in full effect.

the realization, that I cannot sit here and idly watch the destruction of the United States of America in a drug induced stupor, returned swiftly and punctually. I saw this moment from afar but I was afraid of everything that I would be forced to give up. Because regardless of how unsatisfied I am with the current state of humanity, I did truly love myself. And to truly love yourself, you must love your surroundings. And I do. Thus the imminent loss of everything I have come accustomed to loving is somewhat frightening. However as I recently have become aware, I understand that change and pain from the suffering of loss, is just and beautiful as being where I am now.

On Time...

what is time? I decided to write about time because I started to ponder whether anniversaries are simply a human condition, or do annual celebrations actually mean anything. Keep in mind that this essay is purely speculative and in no way did I do any research of any kind whatsoever.
I for one nourish my mothers memory on a daily basis. But now on this anniversary I am required by peers and family to come with them in a social gathering to pay respect. Would they not pay respect otherwise? Of course they would. I'm sure that all my family think about the situation on a regular basis. So why this need to congregate annually to recognize an event passed. And furthermore why are we almost required to participate. It stems from my theory that humans are absolutely governed by their fellow man. There is no autonomous human. It simply cannot exist. This idea that we are constantly being judged by our peers is the primary driving force behind human development of all kind. In fact this is why organized religion and this manifestation of god exists in the first place. However I digress. The subject at hand is time, not god. Or is it?

Anything significant that has ever happened to your country or yourself, is remembered once a year on the day that it occurred. Knowing what we do about our calendar, we realize that our record keeping of time is a bit skewed and that the actual anniversary may in fact lay on the day before or the day after. What is an "actual" anniversary. Well empirically speaking it would be exactly 365/6 days after the event at hand. Keep in mind that our Gregorian calendar is based on the time it takes for the earth to make one full rotation around the sun, the tropical year. So the earth is in the exact same place it was when my mother died. Does this actually bear any significance. Why are humans drawn to this phenomenon. I tend to believe in the astronomical signs. I believe that the massive gravitational forces that exist in space have a significant effect on the birth of anything; if the moon can affect the ocean so, why can't a hundred stars and solar systems affect one child. Thusly, perhaps the fact that the earth is in the exact place it was exactly one year ago, might cause some sort of reaction in our brain that was associated with the event whose anniversary we may be celebrating.
however, does remembering/celebrating something once a year better than say, remembering and celebrating it everyday?

many genius physicists and philosophers have argued that time is something much more tangible than humans consider. The "fabric" of time. It is something that can be manipulated and torn. If this is true, then is it actually cyclic? Does everything feel the same annually? If time is indeed a "fabric" then never is there ever a time that coincides with ANY time before it. It completely contradicts the humans want of anniversaries celebrations. However, anniversaries will never die. It gives humans a reason to justify wasting time to think about something passed. We justify the opportunity costs of spending time to commemorate, rather than work or play or what have you.
Does it make me a bad person to purposefully not go to the commemoration? I think not. But does that actually mean anything? The "super man" can justify that it does not. The pious man would.
Revolting against the absurdity of anniversaries drew me here, to write about it. Did I, in a sense, celebrate the anniversary in doing so? I sat down and contemplated on the death of my mother for a long time. So I guess, for all argumentative purposes, I in fact did celebrate the anniversary. I feel that I was not pressured into doing so; it was purely self motivation. So does the alignment of earth relative to the sun in fact cause humans to remember the exact moment a year ago? Is it a physical reaction to gravitation, or simply the human condition. We have been forced to adhere to the structure of the Gregorian calendar so much so that it has become innate. A Chinese year, an Aztec year, an a tropical year are all different lengths of "time." However they all have one thing in common. It is a set amount of time after the exact moment last year.
So is time something real and tangible, or simply a human condition. The existentialist in me argues that the concept of time is outside the human ability to understand it. Thus why worry. However I was drawn here to write this on this specific day, Feb. 6. Exactly one year after my mother's death. How can I claim that time is outside the grasps of human cognizance when I am so much affected by it. Is it conditioning? Have humans trained themselves so much so that they are one with time. Without time, humans don't exist and without humans time does not exist. Furthermore without humans, does god exist. However I digress the subject at hand is not god, it is time.
or is it?

Thinking versus Speaking

Can I really read people so well that I know true intention and meaning of their communications before they do? Is this really a possibility or am I really just full of shit/myself?

There is this woman, and for a while I believed she was the devil. In fact I thought most women were evil. I find that most men are evil as well. And not inherently, mind you. Why would I think this way? Well, there is this woman...

We had an intimate relationship for a few years. As time passed, I began to realize that she spoke in empty sentences. Every statement wasn't meant to convey any information intrinsic in the words used. Every statement was a hook and sinker with some stimulating bait. The words that came out of her mouth had very accurate purposes. And that was to get me to guess what she was feeling or thinking. If she felt neglected, she would discuss how she loves spending time with friends. And she would bring up how one friend has a new job and misses communicating with him/her. And she is particularly sad about this lack of human contact. And she states that now she has nobody to talk to. And she wishes that somebody would give her some attention. Prima facie she is discussing the loss of a friend due to scheduling conflicts. But any idiot can see that she is alluding to the possibility of not spending enough time with the person she would rather spend more time with, me.

Naturally I start to realize she is talking about me and that I'm not around enough. Of course the possibilities of me being crazy crosses my mind. Perhaps I was paranoid. Perhaps she was discussing how she felt with me. No. She was playing mind games with me. Mind games in the sense that she was trying to talk about something without actually talking about it. Unless, of course, I bring it up.

Being the stubborn bastard that I am, I refuse to play along. Instead I break down and call her out on her shit. I rip apart every sentence she sends my way. I tell her what she is really thinking. For every sentence she says, I have 20 in return. Just a quick analysis of what is actually being said, of what she is hiding from me, of what she is thinking. She denies everything of course.

So, one could deduce that there exist two possibilities. Either I am in the right or she is. Either I am correct regarding her conniving behavior, and she is hiding her true feelings and intentions, or...

Or I am crazy and imagining everything. Actually, she is being open and honest and is just speaking her mind to somebody she trusts implicitly. And I'm just being paranoid.

But in the end she admits. She says that I was right. That all she wanted was to tell me she wanted more attention from me. A reasonable request. So what am I to think? First, guilt hits me. Oh my god, I have intimidated this poor woman into agreeing with me, Big Brother interrogation tactics. But she assures me she just realized it. That it took me telling her what she thought. It made her realize that indeed I was right although she honestly didn't realize it at the beginning of this adventure.

Do I believe her? Or is this just another lure in order to salvage her own mental health, to resume grasp of her emotional self, and in turn regain control of this relationship. I trust her. Something about the way she said it. It felt honest. No unpleasant feeling in my gut. Was I caught? Did I fall for her trap, back into the maze of her self? Maybe I did. But she did a good job. I'll let her relish for now.

But what if my gut is correct, and it always is. She is telling the truth. It hits me, just as everything hits you, like you just felt your testicles descend. I was aware of what she was actually feeling before she did. This is absolutely remarkable. Can I really read people so well that I know true intention and meaning of their communications before they do? But this can explain my behavior since I was 12 years old. I hated school, because of the teachers and various other adults in positions of authority. I was convinced that most of them were full of shit/themselves. This lasted until my freshman year of college. But if I look at this sociopathic behavior under new light...

I see that I only liked the teachers that did not speak their mind. I bonded with and respected the teachers that were in control of their speech. The did not say what was on their mind. They processed everything first and only spoke when it was necessary to convey information to me. They did not think out loud in a sense. Many people nowadays think out loud, and consider it a legitimate form of communication. Their main defense? They are being honest. Yes they are, but it doesn't mean telling me everything on your mind. I only want the condensed version with annotations, footnotes and cross references. I found it foolish and inefficient to speak any other way. However being the child that I was, I resorted to anger and insubordination, when I spoke with those that think out loud. I felt that they were deceitful. I felt that they were trying to hide something from me. Their true intentions. And they were doing such a poor job of doing so. And it insulted me to think that they could get away with doing such a faulty job. The possibility that I was realizing their true meaning and intention before they did never crossed my mind. All the teachers that kept the mindless babble to themselves, were the ones I respected. They analyze their first impulse to say what is on their mind, and revise the idea they want to communicate, and the deliver it pre- packaged and labeled. Only in college did I realize that the teachers that were able to think and communicate in the way I described, were very very intelligent. And then I realized that those teachers that thought out loud were less so. I realized that I need to keep my mouth shut and let those who think out loud come to their own conclusions. I should never cross the boundary into their minds and even attempt to tell them what they are thinking, for you are always met with violent opposition. It is necessary to contemplate what I am about to say before I divulge their true meaning. In the end I am guilty of everything I am critical of. Speaking before thinking.




I am beginning to realize that while one becomes more and more intelligent, the urge to speak aloud lessens and lessens.



Afterword.

I apologize for what may seem as brash arrogance on my part. If in the end, it turns out that I am stupid, then I humbly ask you to forgive my intrusion.

know nothing

bear with me, for i am new.
It is amazing when you think about how much there is to know,
You realize how little you know,
Then you realize how long it took you to learn as much as you have,
Then you realize that you don't have enough time to learn enough to be satisfied,
Then you realize that life is best lived in darkness.

But knowing you are living in darkness is mentally debilitating,
So you constantly search for the light,
Knowledge is all humans have.
It is amazing when you think about how much there is to know.