Absurdia.Net

So it goes.

Tag: self

Suffering from nihilism


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What’s wrong with living in the past? Living in the past doesn’t necessarily mean being completely disconnected from the present time, it just means not accepting anything the present creates around you day after day, preserving something valuable. This thirst for the “here and now”, I really don’t get it. It’s vile. It’s not progressive, it’s just a form of nihilism, the worst species of nihilism, the kind that rejects everything on some basis that’s not product of a rational need, it’s just product of ignorance, because it’s easier to reject than to go back in time and understand what came before, what has brought us where we are now. How can anybody accept present without at least a vague idea of what the past is about? Roots need to be understood and digested before you can cut your ties with them.

I will be twelve forever


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Growing old means, among the other things, to acquire higher sense of responsibility and to be recognized by people around you as a reliable being able to take care of yourself. Wrong! It seems there’s somebody as myself that will never regarded as such by anybody, especially closer relations. Lost a father you immediately have another ready to replace him, and this new father is younger than yourself. Shame.
Taking a stroll these days has to be considered a dangerous activity which may cause people around you much stress and preoccupation regarding your safety. Who are you – I mean myself – to wake up and decide all by yourself, without consulting anybody, to leisurely walk for five kilometers, camera in hand? In rural districts, with all those reckless cars, no sidewalks, no civilization and all those life-threatening entities running amok? Who do you think¬† you are? Indeed, who do I think I am? I’ll be old enough for retirement before I know it and I will be still treated as a twelve-year-old unable to take care of herself. It’s not depressing, but it’s rather embarrassing. Maybe it’s not even that. It’s a mixed feeling that includes mortification and sense of guilt for I don’t even know what. It takes away all the pleasure of doing anything, knowing you’re going to make people around you paranoid for a nothing like that, for just walking around and wanting to take photos of cats. I really feel like an idiot, but I sense there’s something unfair in it. I should be free to do something so silly in a place I can call “home”, but according to the state of things, I mean all things considered, my only liberty is to go to the supermarket and kick the nearest rabid housewife for trying to steal beer from my trolley.

Ambivalence of rest


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The best ideas are those that come visit your imagination while you’re half sleeping. Maybe they’re not actually that good, but they make a lot of sense in a mind that’s partly asleep. In such a state you’re given excellent chances to improve your creativity or to complete personal tasks. But is there anybody to really have the strength and dedication to get up and take action? Or at least take a note in order to not forget? I do not. It always happens that all these resources offered by pre-sleep delirium go inevitably to waste. Starting from scratch the day after, or in any case after the rest, isn’t much appealing, especially because, despite the lack of memory, one perfectly knows and regrets the laziness of the moment. But rest is a need of both mind and body, how can one live either fearing inspirational intellectual developments or the refreshment of rest? If you give up in the first case you risk cerebral stasis, in the second you’re very likely sooner or later to get a nervous breakdown. So many self-inflicted traps one can’t avoid… I need some sleep.