A Note On Regrets

I’ve always tried to live a regret free life, you know, not apologizing for existing, being comfortable in my skin and pretending I made a difference in people’s lives( BTW: this gives me an idea for my next blog: the relevance of my existence in other people’s lives), and I most of the time succeed…when I’m engrossed in something.

 People constantly wish they had more time to think, more time to organize their minds. And I’m not saying I don’t enjoy this time I spend, exploring my inner maze which is my mind, however it can be dangerous.

A wise councilor or madrich as we called them, on a grade 11 week-away from school once told me something that would circle my mind for years. I was a loner back then (not so different from now except now I’m a social loner, if you can digg it), and he saw me, sitting alone, listening to my mp3, looking at the stars and keeping away from everyone. He came over and said to me: “whatcha up to?”, “nothing, just thinking”, “don’t think too hard, it can be dangerous, and take you places you don’t wanna be, now come on and join the fun at the fire”. And I did. And it was good…because I could not think.

And I try occupying myself with things to keep my mind going inwards. I write, read, party, chill with friends, watch movies, get shit-faced, etcetera etcetera. However, it times like these, when I space out into my wall, or stare into my COD: MW 2 background that my mind starts to chew on itself, like a stomach might chew on itself when you’re starving. I start thinking about my life, and all those efforts go to waste. I become depressed, and feel unworthy. I begin to think about everything. Absolutely everything, such as those I have lost, and those I could have gained. I think on my life, reliving bad experiences, and finding ways to make them better, wished I could have acted how I now know I should have acted to make them into a better experience, and seeing good experiences, and thinking of ways they could have been better, and wishing that I behaved that way. I start down a self-pitying spiral that makes me feel unworthy, not of living, but of love and finding someone special to love. I feel unworthy of their company because haunting voices of the past spiral through my head, making me believe what they described me as: Weird, a freak, a loon, you guys know what I’m talking about right? I’m not saying you’ve felt like this as often as I have, but I’m sure you have. When you lie awake in bed, unable to find the comfort of dreams, and you start sieving through your memories as a clerk might through a filing cabinet, and you begin to think, “wow, now that I think about it, that situation could have panned out so much better if I did this, or said this, or even didn’t do or say what I did”, then you play out the consequences, and if you’re creative enough, could have seen how your life might have played out til this moment in a completely different way, and for some reason you see yourself happier in this edited way, so you feel not-so-great, then sad, then depressed, then regretful, then self-pitying, then you feel like plain old shit. And then it’s easier to fall asleep because this whole thinking process drains you.

Personally I think of two occasions, and the first I’ll bore you with is school.

School is the 1^st step in human social interaction, and tended to trip on that step quite often. Not to say I didn’t have friends. I was constantly surrounded by a few people that I called friends, but they still thought I was weird. I’m sure you have a friend in your group you label “the weird guy” (BTW: If you can’t think of anyone in your group as the weird one, it’s probably you ;)). I had so many chances to start over, coz I constantly changed schools, and every time I’d fall into the same position because, sub-consciously I believe, I was socially self-destructive. And there are so many points I could pinpoint where I went wrong. And so many things I would change if I could, so many wrongs I would right, and so many rights I’d make righter.

The second thing is my late father. He died when I was thirteen, of a freak accident of freak accidents. He was at home, when a wild swarm of African killer bees decided to migrate, and he happened to be in the way, and was thus stung to death. But this description doesn’t do him justice, so I will describe as best I can all I can remember, and thus make a movie for you out of words of this day:

It was a Saturday, the morning started off normal enough, me and my dad sat together for the last time, and watched Dare Devil, which was kind of ironic due to the kid’s dad’s death, but never mind. I went to a Magic the Gathering tournament and my mother went to her friend’s house. My father wanted to take care of some errands so he stuck around, and me being a bratty 13 year-old, I asked for my mom’s phone so I wouldn’t wait forever for her. Around one o’clock, I was playing a friendly match with someone and I defeated them with a card called killer bees, which was about the same as the time of death given to him, freaky huh? Never mind. Anyway, I came in 17^th, I was pretty proud of myself. And my mom came to fetch me and lo and behold, she had my best friend in the car. “Wow!” I thought to myself, “This is turning out to be an awesome day!” On the way home me and my friend were joking and laughing, but when we got home, my mom parked the car, went over to open the gate and let out a shriek. Thinking my dogs did something wrong, I angrily got out the car to see what they did, and there lying in the middle of the driveway, was my father, covered in a foiled blanket (even as I write this my throat is closing up). I can’t really remember what happened from there because I have blocked out the memory, but for three days I woke up and cried, and fell asleep crying. After those three days however, I never shed another tear again. But what really troubled me a year later, after watching a final destination movie, was how convenient it had been. And to be honest I held myself, and against what everyone has said to me, still hold myself responsible for his death. Because I took my mom’s phone, my dad couldn’t contact here in a last effort of survival, and couldn’t.

From this event, I feel regret at not taking advantage of his time with me, not learning from him, spending more time with him. And those, unlike the regrets at school, those are times that can never be replaced.

As always, I feel a lil better in writing, however the common question is, if I could, would I do it all again in the exact same way? Fuck no. I would change it a whole fucking bunch! Consequently I look at the time, and it is roughly 00:20, the day my father died. Yet another coincidence? Disputable. Life is full of them. If you search for them that is. I write this roughly 7 years after my father’s death. And as always, my blogs tend to take on a new direction, separate from the title or message, so I see it appropriate to dedicate this to my father, who was my crutch of sanity. And even know I struggle to find balance in my head. This too will probably be a topic of another blog: how my father’s death paved the way for my steady decent into self destruction.

 However, I sign off dedicating this blog to my father. As I type this I look at my father’s photocopied picture stuck onto my monitor. I love you dad, and miss you. Now more than ever I need your guidance, which I cannot receive. You shall always be in my heart, a gaping scar from my past I fear to prod at.

My Religion. My Blasphemy. My choice.

*CAUTION* this post is not for the religiously sensitive, or faint of heart. if you wish to bless me, pray for my salvation, find the light or curse me, save it. if you think its that bad then just wait 200 years and we can debate it in hell. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this and if you have any debatable comments, drop them in and we'll discuss 'em. They may even lead to my next post. I say again, NO RELIGIOUS BULLSHIT ABOUT ME BLASPHEMING. If you don't like it, don't read it. simple:)

Religion. We have been brought up with it. It has nurtured our lives, spreading falsified stories of grandeur and order only if you believe in this “god”. It gives us a hope, even though it may be false, in bettering our lives. And we grow up, becoming more in depth. I, at one stage believed. And I too was blinded. Religion does not want you to think. Does not want you to look behind the veils of deceit, so elaborately spun. And so we submit. And to subdue us are those pastors and holy men, who preach end of days and a burning fate if we do not believe in the “One True God”, yet there are many for the religions, all backing their claims up as having the same god with different names, different personalities, different texts, different prophets, different lies, which culminate into one grotesque lie keeping us from moving on scientifically and evolutionarily.

This is a one-sided view, however. To assume that religion has only affected the world negatively would be naïve and unjust. It has only done so recently. Throughout history religion has left its black mark, but only recently has it become a wall separating progress, and advance.

Religion was necessary, at one point. It gave us laws, and enforced them with biblical penalties and a fear of an all-powerful “god”. It has caused barbarous tribes to form civilizations and live in relative peace in their community. Only when those religions became aware of others, did they become a negative influence, where holy wars raged and abominations committed were justified by the “true god”, where all they were achieving was slaughtering each other like their sacrifices, and destroying generations of genes that could have bettered the next generation.

Most concepts we have adopted today are due to religion. Law. Order. Justice. Racism. Destruction. Revenge. Death. The Spanish inquisition, jihad, the crusades, all of these and more are figments of a lie created to blind the masses into a submissive belief.

However, let’s look at how humanity has made progress. The internet, once exclusively military, has fallen into the hands of the local populace. The automobile, aircrafts, fire crackers, yoyos, plastics, all of these and much more originated from military funding, introduced to the local populace, and advancing our technology. Religion helped because religion caused these wars. But is it necessary to wage wars to advance in technology? No. but it helps. When one side wishes to be more advanced, more prepared and better equipped for battle, technological advancement becomes more of an incentive, and thus new inventions are born, to destroy, and then better our world.

However, new squabbles have arisen. Religion has become out dated. Encouraging a shun of free thought and scientific discovery, lest we find god, kill it and claim its power for our own. Or worse: prove there is no god. Proving the truth: that everything is a coincidence, that life has no meaning. The zealots of the religious sects would crumble, their hopes and beliefs dashed, would become homicidal and suicidal, generally speaking, they’d become antisocial.

A Christian paleontologist is a contradiction. How can one study fossils and still believe in “perfect design”, yet it exists. And their zealous belief keeps them safe from a truth.

“When I was a child, I played a child, saw as a child, and spoke as a child, thought as a child. Now that I have matured, I put childish things aside”. And this too needs to be put aside. There is a time for everything. The British had theirs, as to have the Romans, the Greeks, Chinese, Mongolians, Spanish, and German. They all had their chance in history, but in the end were put aside. The tenacity of the existence of religion only proves to me one thing…it is the greatest con history has ever witnessed. A con where, if ones faith wavers, he convinces himself otherwise and comes up with an excuse.

In this day and age, anyone can start a religion. A Jew nailed to a tree. A man that sees an angel in a cave. A science fiction writer. An Egyptian prince, the list is endless as are the variations and the prophets. In this point I say, maybe I should claim to be a prophet. I shall start my own religion and become eternal in doing so. I am accepting any donations. My account number is…..

From atheist to reader, I bid you god bless ;)

Escaping the anthill

I was driving to a job interview today. I got stuck in traffic. I looked over the highway, daydreaming at others stuck as well, wondering…looking out to a sea of cars impatiently waiting to feed the corporate fiends at the top of the food chain. Then I realize, we are like ants…all of us. Slaves to the anthill of society. While those at the top are relaxing, those at the base work harder and harder, expanding their empire, making the base thicker, so the VVIP section at the top, the thin peak, can get higher and higher. And I wonder if anyone else has thought of this. I look on in disgust as people are apathetic to this truth. So submissive. I turned around and went home.

I went to a club. For fun. For a girlfriend. For a drink. Its fine until I look up. It gud until I hav a viewpoint and can see everyone, laughing, drinking, interacting, and do you know what I see? More ants, thinking they are off duty, but they are never off duty. Conformists packed together. I feel that disgust run down my spine. But I don’t leave. I get a drink, then another, then another. I feel my world become sane again. I drive home drunk. I go to sleep. I am at peace.

I am lost. Depressed. Looking for meaning more than becoming another ant. I wish to rebel. But doing so will lead to poverty, leading to conformity. I go to the people that are romoured to be free. Not those friends that say they are free to justify their whorish behavior. Not those girl friends we have that believe they are freespirits and prove it by being sluts. Not those who rebel and take a road to nothingness just because they wish to resist being different. The real ones, the ones who made a difference, the ones who died for their beliefs. And the ones I hate. I went to a hippie colony. I saw them, being “free”, smoking up to reach a level of happiness, dancing around a fire, hiding behind bushes. Some not hiding a all. And they too are ants. But not the corporate kind. Their own kind. I  saw this when the girl in tie dye took a drag and wore a grin. They are their own brand, with not peole that they “worship”, but a plant. They do not conform but to their own conformity. Even as I sit and observe, passing the weed on, not taking it in, not submitting to invitations behind the bushes, I didn’t come here for pleasure, but for truth. I notice there here too is a hierarchy. They are ants.

I go home, disturbed. I have some brownies and a bag of “fun”. I get home and eat the brownies. I get into bed and fire up the fun, carefully spraying aerosol after every puff. Soon enough I’ll be playing with it, giggling like a little girl. But now I remain concerned about my individuality. Before I fall asleep, in my state of false euphoria, I am at peace.

I go with a friend to a club again, fighting my overactive mind. My friend gets into trouble. I challenge to troublemaker to a fight. We go outside. The fight begins, and so does my mind. Why do ants fight each other? The hit comes. I’m so involved I’m my world, that I ignore his. His fist makes contact. I stop thinking. In this time of pain, adrenaline, self-destruction…I am at peace.

I look past this week. I look at the world. I concur we are all ants. We are in a society where the ice berg rules all. Where the real ice berg is ¾ under the freezing water, fighting to breathe the air…drowning. While the other ¼ is comfortably perched above the sub-zero temperatures, carelessly balancing on the heads of its slaves. And it deceives those who havnt been sucked in to join it. Deceiving it with promises of rising to the top. Even the titanic was attracted. And was destroyed for its greed.

I find myself stuck. I find myself lost. The only way to carry on living somewhat comfortably is to become an ant. Sacrificing my individuality. However to be free, I find it necessary to indulge in destructive…self-destructive activity, so I may feel at peace. But in sharing this I have discovered a new truth. Writing allows me to retain my individuality, and could allow me to make money. Even as I finish this thought…I feel at peace.