An insight into the hypocrisy of adulthood.
You tell me to share as you clutch your purse tighter when a dirty, homeless hand reaches out.
You tell me to get along with others as you build the fence with the neighbours higher.
You tell me to use my words as you throw the hammer when it hurts your hand.
You tell me never to lie as you tell Mom that the wind broke her favourite dog figurine.
You tell me to be polite and kind as you swear at other drivers on the motorway.
You tell me to respect my teachers and elders as you call your boss stupid and ignore Grandpa’s phone calls.
You tell me that violence is never the answer as you say how important the war on terror is.
You tell me a lot of things a child must do. How old do I need to be so I don’t need to do any of these things anymore?
How can we hope for better from those who come after us if we never show them?
A few weeks ago I decided to give myself the challenge of writing a new piece of flash fiction to get back into the habit of writing after quite a significant break from writing. The task was both relatively easy and quite enjoyable. However now it’s about time that I tackle a far greater foe, a rewrite – or more specifically the rewrite of my screenplay. That is to say the forth…or fifth?…or somethingth rewrite of my screenplay.
I’m not the kind of person that makes friends easily. Relationships for me have rarely past that lustful initial stage. And bosses have always managed to wear on my patience due to their inflated self-worth.
My psychologist – mandated by my most recent attempt at employment – would say I’m suffering from NPD. It’s the term they use to tear down those who dare to assume they are worth more than they are valued at. Isn’t it more likely though that I’m suffering from the absurdity, ignorance and emotional penury of those around me?
Darkness. Nothingness. Meek words. Yet thoughts that are capable of striking fear in the greatest of men.
The bridge is only a few more streets away.
It’s peculiar the relationship that writing and emotion have for me. There has always been a strong connection between misery and writing, for me. Whenever I’m going through a rough period I turn to writing as a means of escape and self-treatment. Conversely, when I’m happy writing doesn’t come as easily, or more correctly, the ideas don’t flow as easily.
Indian artist Sudarsan Pattnaik
It seems quite tragic that society is incapable of empathy or understanding without being shocked and shamed into having some. The death of three-year-old Aylan Kurdi was a dark and tragic event. And a completely avoidable one if Europe took the same attitude towards Syrian refugees that the US government took towards European refugees in the years following WWII.
But Europe doesn’t – or more correctly – didn’t until there was a young boy’s face buried, cold and bloated, in the sands of the Mediterranean. He now joins the 2,500 other estimated dead refugees martyred before Europe has finally decided to value humanity over petty boarder controls.
Is blogging a way of publically expressing yourself in lieu of a more traditional form, such as a diary? I’ve written before about the nature of blogging and what blogging has done to the written word. However, the more I blog – I’ve recently had my two year anniversary on WordPress – the more I feel like it’s become some form of literary and public form of writing down thoughts and feelings.
Can religion and education ever truly live symbiotically? I’m working again at a school with a strong Catholic Ethos and it also values knowledge and education. But, by definition, religion is built on ‘faith’ a concept whereby you unquestionably believe in what you are told. Whereas education is built on inquiring and probing the status quo in order to increase knowledge. Similarly, religion has tradition at its foundations while education is founded on innovation. Therefore, does it stand that both are fundamentally conflicting?
‘If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.’ John F. Kennedy.
It seems that Britain’s rich never really took heed of this warning. A recent study has found that less-academic wealthy children are 35% more likely to find success then their more-academic poorer peers (‘Glass Floor’ Study). It’s hardly surprising that people want to maintain their wealth – human greed is an inevitability of life – nor is it astonishing that people are zealously doing whatever is at their disposal to ensure the success of their offspring. These are justifiable motives, which anyone could be guilty of and one cannot condemn people for.
“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” William Shakespeare, As You Like It.
I have always found this to be one of the most accurate comments that Shakespeare has ever produced. I find that as soon as one accepts their own intelligence or wisdom then they are doomed to a life of ignorance. I have always had a thirst for knowledge and care little about from where that knowledge can be gained or achieved. I find that knowledge is something that we all possess elements of but to achieve the intact ‘Grail’, as it were, is little more than a fallacy.