Past and Future, memories and hopes

The first month of the New Year is halfway through. Nevertheless, I still thought I’d share what I feel I’ve achieved last year and I hope to pursue this one.

I was inspired to write this post when I read Lisa Jakub’s ‘Looking back: lessons of 2015’. Once I finished her piece, I immediately thought to myself that nothing interesting had crossed my path last year. But then, in less than 30 seconds, I’d found that I had so much to be thankful for. So here’s a glimpse of why I’m proud of 2015:

I graduated from school with very good marks.
I began studying something I love in a new environment.
I’ve met few, but nice people thus far.
I wrote my first short story.
I resumed playing a sport that I love.
I took the first step to doing something that was very difficult for me to even consider.

And I hope to continue on this path.

I hope to meet new people, I hope to keep writing and communicating my emotions to others. I hope to lead a healthy life improving in a sport I’ve always been fond of, I hope to always be thankful because no matter how much we’re struggling with things, when we really think about it, we find that we have infinite reasons to be grateful.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the pain, sometimes I feel I don’t understand anymore. But sometimes, also, I am overwhelmed by that list of reasons that shows me how much I’ve accomplished.

 

 

Unrelated yet related

I know, as all of you do, of what has happened. Attacks and deaths everywhere. Not just in Paris, but Everywhere. And my heart goes out to each person who has lost a loved one in these attacks, but also in previous ones, that mustn’t be forgotten.

Every life is precious. Every human life is worthy. And in light of what has happened, I would like to attach a link.
It’s very interesting, and wholly unrelated to politics.

Why am I posting this now? It might senseless, but it is not. I am posting this because it is a reminder of just one of the things that is wrong with the world. I came across it randomly, as we all do. We always see these links, sometimes we open them, sometimes we don’t. I generally do, and I hate that I do. It’s a waste of my time.

I am convinced that I lose valuable brain cells every time I open these kinds of links. And yet I still do.

So here it is. An example of what the media does, the messages it sends out. How unworthy some may feel when they see these kinds of things, is precisely the reason they are posted. It’s a form of humiliation. A personal, private humiliation that stays with you

And I just want to understand.
What’s the point? What kind of standards are you attempting to make us live by? And more importantly, how long will this go on? When will it cease? Because everyday I meet people who dislike this, and I read articles and books about why this isn’t good for us. And yet, it persists.

People are losing their lives and we’re opening these links.

Seriously?

 

“Ode To Joy”

It might sound like plagiarism, but it’s not. I acknowledge that “Ode To Joy” is more commonly known as Beethoven’s ninth symphony, but I think I can use the title to give an ode to joy… the joy of books. I felt like I would like to write this because I am currently re-reading one of my favorite novels. I thought I’d only read a small part, just for fun, as I’d already perused it before. Then, I though to myself, “I might as well read the first chapter, just the first one.” And, as you can imagine, I’ve now read ten chapters in counting. However, as I am studying (because this is my last year in school, and that is the synonym of being glued to my desk), I don’t have much time to read. Once I start though, and promise myself to only read one chapter, a few pages, or even just the next paragraph, I end up wasting time. But then, I remember something I read somewhere, that I’d like to share with you:

It looks like it’s wasting time, but literature is actually the ultimate time-saver — because it gives us access to a range of emotions and events that it would take you years, decades, millennia to try to experience directly. Literature is the greatest reality simulator — a machine that puts you through infinitely more situations than you can ever directly witness.

De Botton

I don’t know who this person is (or was). I don’t know where they’re from, where they’ve been, what they’ve done. But I don’t need to, because they’re probably one of the smartest people that ever lived, as the words quoted above show. Regardless of the fact that they speak a universal truth (i.e books are great tutors), it also reminds me that I am a human being. I am entitled to be tired of my studies. I can decide to treat myself to a beautiful novel. Books are never a waste of time, even if they don’t help me ace my exams directly, because math doesn’t pop up in Jane Austen’s novels, it helps me think. And, I feel that thinking is rather important in life. Also, reading allows me to forget the troubles on my desk and look at a whole new world, one that I can never know, or may never know. And by forcing me to take a step back, it calms my nerves; therefore allowing me to resume working with a fresh and relaxed mind. Thus making me more productive.

Reading brings to me more joy than anything that comes to my mind right now. Books are a treasure, and I can never say it enough.

Read, if you don’t. Never stop if you do.

Remember?

This post is to be a short one but it is important that it be written.

Three Muslims were killed in North Carolina. They were students.

I don’t know if it was parking, anger, atheism, intolerance of opinions different from our own, lack of morals and values, or the consequence of the fact that the US allows guns, that caused this. Maybe it’s something else, or maybe it’s all of these things. Maybe we just live in a crazy world.

I just feel something must be said for them. Something must be said for all of us. We must honor the living, and the dead, even if we never knew them. Those that have just died, they are citizens of this world, of humanity, a citizenship that we all share. And for this only reason, we should care.
I feel that there must be a reaction to what happened. If we all let everything go by, without stopping to reflect, and change, then we’re all done for.

I hope everyone knows of what’s happened. I hope everyone is as angered by it as they were with Charlie Hebdo. It does not matter who died, or for what reason, it does not matter if in the depths of our dark minds we manage to justify a death. Because, in reality, there is no way to justify a death. No one deserves to be killed. Annihilation was never the solution.

I know that I didn’t write anything eloquent, eye-opening, fascinating or revolting. I wrote what many have said before me, what many will say, and what many are thinking this very moment. But what’s important here, is that I said it, made it known to those who would come across this note, that I care, that I want to make difference. And, that more importantly, I am honoring the three Muslims that I truly hope, will not go by unnoticed.

Guilt or my loyal friend

I am guilty of sins but I have no feeling of guilt perturbing my conscience. Why?

It is because I act according to my own moral code and if my code and my acts are not opposed, then I am not guilty. For the laws I have established have not been broken.

But I feel pain, I feel misery and I see only darkness.  Why?
Because I am under the piercing, blinding stare of Others. And I fear Others with Her disapproving looks and menacing words. I fear Her and I fear the truth that may or not be hidden behind Her words. Thus I believe I am guilty, I am scared, though in a world with no Others, I am innocent.

And I continue to act. But now I hide from Others, and She knows not what I do. And now I am at peace.
I act as I please, and my moral code is my sole guide.
Though now I feel I am sinking, I am sinking slowly into a world I do not know. But Others is not aware for I remain at bay from Her gaze. And yet I continue to sink, faster and faster. Something is burying me deeper and deeper, I can no longer hear the comforting sounds that once surrounded me. I am afraid. I am afraid of what is burying me.

What could it be? Why can’t I know?
I think, and I wonder, and I ponder.
And then I understand.

I am sinking, I am burying myself, deeper and deeper. For I am now hidden behind my own shame. For I feel guilty; I have cheated myself. For I am weak and have allowed Others to roam freely whilst I escaped as though I had been the guilty one. Now, I see though that I am guilty for I have not been true to myself.
I have my own moral code though it was not strong enough to aid me. And now I must find my way out of this hole. Never must I hide from Her, or from myself.

I do not mean by this that one never feels guilty. On the contrary, many of us are guilty of many acts we may not even know. But what I find most important is to distinguish my guilt and that which others have imposed on me.

It’s the idea of the “Inner Justice System”. I establish my own moral code, one that I am convinced of; I follow it. And if I break it, I am my own judge. And, should my conscious judge not be up to the task, my subconscious one, Guilt, will never fail me.

I admit to you that He is not always welcome. I often prefer to listen to the conscious one, he’s always softer on me. However with every lie the latter utters, Guilt’s voice grows stronger. And in the end, I am either convinced of His words, and I right my wrong. Or I remain with Guilt’s never-ending cries in my ear until I finally perish.
Guilt always wins. Guilt is the embodiment of Truth. It is the Truth we know to be in our hearts. And that is why He is always the vanquisher for He is stronger than Others and Her false morals. And He is stronger than the kind, easy-going, and corrupted judge.

I don’t know why Others needs to look down on us. Perhaps She draws strength from this.
I don’t know why Others needs to judge us. Perhaps it is because She tries not to listen to Ger own Guilt.
And more importantly, I don’t know why we let Her.
We are constantly controlled by society. We “do this” and “steer clear of that” out of fear, fear that some people will think some things of us.
I don’t know why that is.
Worst of all, I don’t know why I, unlike my friend mentioned above, am unable to find my way upward.
Perhaps that is what my Guilt is trying to tell me. That I am weak.


http://theseekersdungeon.com/2013/10/03/dungeon-prompts-week-8-guilt-lighting-or-engulfing-the-darkness/

Math: The problematic solution

I think each one of us has already felt unhappy, unacknowledged, or at least misunderstood, at some point in our short lives. And for whatever reason that may be, it feels awful.

I would like to stress on the last one, “misunderstood” because it drags on a friend, Frustration.
I mean, we all met Frustration when we just couldn’t grasp a Math problem. But then something clicked and suddenly you felt overjoyed because this foreign notion and your brain turned out to be compatible.

Now imagine you are a student again. It’s Math class. If understanding a problem filled you up with such glee, then imagine understanding someone’s pain, or better still, your own pain.

Now change your point of view. Imagine you are the Math teacher. And you have to explain to your most beloved student (don’t worry though, you’re not favoring them) a very abstract notion. And you’ve tried to bring it about in so many different ways, but it’s just not possible. They don’t get it, it’s almost like they are consciously refusing to understand.
Frustration.

Now, the final perspective you are to take, is a more complex one. It’s a dual perspective. Imagine you are both the professor and the pupil. And you need to explain to others a concept you have never even mastered, one that you are still unable to understand yourself.
Frustration and all his friends

I feel there is no other word that englobes one’s feeling as much as this one. To feel as though there is a void inside of one’s soul, because a loved one simply does not understand. It’s painful. It’s painful to live, and it’s painful to realize.

And yet, we hang on, and we try, just one more time… For fixing your problem is not what you want. You want to be understood. And even though it doesn’t solve anything, somehow it helps. Because maybe the real problem isn’t Math, but it’s feeling as though your beloved student finally got it, even if they don’t turn out to be an engineer.


This is a link I found. It’s very expressive and I think anyone can identify to it, without even having experienced it.

http://everydayfeminism.com/2014/12/explaining-my-depression/?utm_content=buffer9d0e2&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer