The Loneliest Moment In Someone’s Life Is When They Are Watching Their Whole World Fall Apart, And

When am I ready?

We work very hard for things we want and for others that we don't. But it's about all right. However, mostly our efforts turn out to be fruitless. Why is this? Why isn't my book published yet? Why am I not married?

Most often we question the methods and the degree of our commitment but other times simply accept failure. None of this and at the same time all of this is right. How can that be?

Firstly, we can never work too hard. There's always a bit more we could do. Yes, even when we feel we've done our best. It is constantly possible to push a little harder, to get somewhat better. And there are times, when our work needs polishing. It's extremely hard to admit, when what we think we've worked for with all our might, cries out for being corrected. It's truly damn difficult to say, that it isn't that good after all.

Secondly, we easily get obsessed with a wide range of variety of things, from what we ought to keep ourselves far. And then it's inevitable, that we lay down our weapons and armours, and whisper lowly: I give up. Then we become free to do what can work for us.

But no matter what we do and how we do it. Sometimes we are destined to achieve success at certain fields, still, we struggle and yet get nowhere. That's because we might not be quite ready. The Oracle tells Neo in the Matrix: Sorry, kid. You got the gift, but it looks like you're waiting for something. And sometimes, very rarely, it looks like we're all waiting for something, just don't know what. We think we'll know when we see it. But it's not something we can see or something that's basically external. No. Just like in Neo's case, we've got to start believing. Faith is the last barrier, that separates us from entering the promise land.

can you check out my blog?<3 its photography/vintage^.^

I just did and it's lovely :)

Diving Head First

What I want this post to be is a reminder for later times.

"6 Be determined and confident, for you will be the leader of these people as they occupy this land which I promised their ancestors. 7 Just be determined, be confident; and make sure that you obey the whole Law that my servant Moses gave you. Do not neglect any part of it and you will succeed wherever you go. 8 Be sure that the book of the Law is always read in your worship. Study it day and night, and make sure that you obey everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. 9 Remember that I have commanded you to be determined and confident! Do not be afraid or discouraged, for I, the Lord your God, am with you wherever you go."" Joshua 1:6-9 GNT

I am standing up now and doing what my tasks are. I will keep on writing but with determination and confidence. I will also study and think as well as I can. I will run as fast as I can, do as many things as possible.

I do realize that the quoted scripture is not a promise given to me. It teaches the right mindset: when I see my mission, I have to be determined and confident. (I also realize that a mission can only be something through which I glorify the Lord and something that's focus is Jesus. Although it is not limited to the explicit forms of worship; it may take the form of art, for example (see also: Switchfoot))

It is highlighted even in the scripture above but it's also said beautifully as follows:

" 8 Physical exercise has some value, but spiritual exercise is valuable in every way, because it promises life both for the present and for the future. 9 This is a true saying, to be completely accepted and believed. 10 We struggle and work hard, because we have placed our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all and especially of those who believe." 1 Timothy 4:8-10 GNT

It is the spiritual ground, where I must be standing firm before anything else and only from there can I move out to do anything.

So let this day be remembered and may purity, love and humility toward God be the things marking the way.

#southbound to Her, to the dentist and to sweet innocent dreams from the past

The Secret Life of ME

Ben Stiller's The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013) got some harsh reviews on accounts of being a cliché and of praising the sort of life that only a substantial amount of money can make possible. Some critics even say they'll graciously overlook these because Ben Stiller's just not that profound and we like him for his unique and entertaining humor, not his abstract thoughts. I watched the movie today and I was blown away.

I had quite low expectations because of the reasons above, and my intention was simply to watch something light and to relax. It was light, yes, and it was relaxing, true, but it wasn't at all as superficial as some say.

The title character, Walter Mitty, is a guy, who, after his father's death, became a responsible adult, who had to put aside his dreams and desires, in order to provide for his family and himself. He lived a life, where adventure existed only in the form of fantasies and daydreams. The movie is about his brave moves of going out to the wild and exotic parts of the world.

I admit, even in my brief summary it sounds like a cliché. However, what makes this movie extraordinary is there, among those lines. It's not the story of a man, who's just a little gray piece of paper (even one of the characters says that he imagined him as that) but someone with a past, with hopes and dreams and abilities. I can't stress abilities enough because that's a crucial point in Walter Mitty's greatness. He does the things that he can actually do and not the impossible. In an early scene we see him perform cool skateboard tricks and that's him, not his imagination, him. Now I'm not saying that someone has to be able-bodied or some such thing to live a good life. My point is that this story shows us a guy, who's coming from somewhere and goes on doing amazing things that he's had the potential to do all along. If he's an athletic guy, then it's a good thing he does things that require that.

Another important element of his character is that he wants to travel. You can say that everybody likes traveling and it's their financial states that prevent them from going to see the world. However, this is a misconception. I see people around me everyday, who say they wish they could go abroad and see this and that part of the world but in reality, they're afraid of people, who don't speak their language, they're uncomfortable with hiking, they hate spontaneity and so on and so forth. If pricey hotels with fancy rooms and fluent English concierges is what you want, then that's actually achievable almost exclusively through spending a fortune on it. If you want to see nice landscapes but only without breaking a sweat, here's tumblr, where there are endless photos that you'll be happy with and that's that. But if you're one of the few adventurous people out there, willing to jump in the ice-cold ocean, then you can do that on very little money.

My point with these is that looking at the events in the movie very specifically will make you say that yeah, it's pretty cool but no one can actually do that. But those specific events would take place in the life of that very specific Walter Mitty.

This movie is about the lifestyle that our generation has forgotten but even a hundred years ago it was the prevailing idea. And I remember that when I was seventeen I wanted to be a journalist and travel to the Sahara and climb the Mount Everest. I know, from my own experience, that abandoning these dreams won't erase them from the fabric of my mind, only I can oppress them with the new idea of life. But it's wrong. It's so wrong actually that my fear or reluctance to realize at least some of them has resulted in having me now with a poor heart, probably incapable of climbing the Everest but at the same time, a heart that's aching to do it.

My conclusion is that not all of us are adventurers or journalists and we shouldn't try to be the things we can't be, so it's not necessary to pretend we're Walter Mitty. However, figuratively, our generation's father died and we've become responsible. But it wouldn't be irresponsible to stop playing it safe and stop living petty lives. We complain a lot and believe all the crazy-labels that are put on all sorts of awesome things and I think these two things are on the top ten list of things that are wrong with people of this era. Let's try to change that.

the word

In the post you’re about to make, replace cis/white/hetero/male people with the Jews and if the result sounds like something that could be straight out of Mein Kampf, you should probably reconsider your social justice blogging habits.

I am the midnight of a soul I'm the other side of the wall The fissure between the tops Ever-hunted blood-red fox I am the glimpse of a thought I'm the wave broken by rocks A mystery of nothing Trapped, caught by snares whilst hunting I am the smoke of a burnt-out candle The smell of night The sight of blinds I am the broken glass' torn-down handle The weight of light The might of fright But dawn follows the night I'll enjoy an eagle's flight And I already know Why I wait tomorrow

An impressive study by my favourite artist :)

I made that this afternoon :)

Frankenstein? You Certainly Have No Idea

A while ago I wrote a similar post about Bram Stoker’s Dracula, where I explored how we’ve gradually departed from the original concept and eventually turned the whole story inside out--the way it’s usually believed to be today.

Horror and genre fiction in general are looked upon as solely entertaining literature. It is best represented by enormous fandoms around horror stories that are really the shallow water of the stream of art--yes, I’m referring to Stephen King.

Although is it not supposed to be more? Shouldn’t horror really be more than a good fright? Obviously I ventured out to write this post because I strongly believe horror can have more profound dimensions and it should. Actually, my opinion is mainly informed by Stoker’s Dracula and Shelley’s Frankenstein (and a good portion is a result of reading Poe extensively in my teen years, as it shows in the post later).

Let me begin by explaining a bit about contemporary horror’s genesis. As a branch of literature it has very little to do with books, it is only an indirect continuation to the tradition. Today’s horror comes from a set of movies, some of which were book adaptations or remotely inspired by them. Actually one name is a recurrent theme here: Bela Lugosi, a.k.a. the king of horror--much more so than anyone would have thought. His version of Dracula has proven more enduring than the written one, so the underlying themes of Stoker’s novel, which even concerned the metaphysical at times, are lost, quite tragically. Also, the popular image of Frankenstein’s monster comes from the 1939 Rowland V. Lee movie Son of Frankenstein. The shape of the creature, its mindlessness, the castle, the assistant--every bit people associate with Frankenstein is a direct result of the movie, hardly any of which actually features in the novel.

A written genre originating from a visual one is encased in the limitations of both--what could not be visually understood won’t appear, and the same applies to the written part. It is an almost unimaginable thing but originally these horror stories barely ever showed the horror. “Why, we have that today,” the ignorant reader might say but the horror of old times was not filled with the today commonplace suspense and disgust elements.

In this post I focus on the method of Shelley in Frankenstein: Her approach was what we would today call the purist. Her novel embodies horror--the dictionary’s definition of it actually. She only ever tells as much about the monster that it exists, reluctantly adding that it’s too hideous to behold and once dropping that its hand resembles that of a mummy. The main instrument of this story is a very long line of deaths but only in the purist spirit, as well.

A prolonged prologue commences with establishing the members of an extended family. They are talented, intelligent, wealthy, charitable people, who are just the dream of the era. After individually stating about every relation how enviable and admirable they are, the monster is briefly introduced. No lightning is involved here, only the statement that Victor Frankenstein, the visionary, somehow figures out how to bestow life upon things and then, once the monster is created, he instantly regrets it and falls into a state of mental breakdown over the realization of how unhallowed his work is. The monster then lives alone for a while, gradually comprehends that he is frightening to humans and feels that he is forced into a perpetual state of solitude, which he loathes more than anything--so much so that he will burn down the entire world if necessary to get himself a companion. And that’s about it. The monster asks Frankenstein to create him a mate but as he refuses he decides to avenge him as the creator of his desperation through killing everyone he holds dear. Enter the death of all characters...

The horror is how Frankenstein watches everyone he loves being killed at the unstoppable hands of his own creation. His guilt and reflections at it are horror. He is horrified. Horrified. He--along with the invested reader--is not exactly startled, nor disgusted, but profoundly horrified.

But there’s more to this story than just being the original horror. I explored that dimension only because of the framework of today’s horrible, genre-redefining novels.

As contemporary horror tries to grasp what visually equates horror, all content is lost. Shelley operates with what Poe designated as the horror-writer’s most powerful instrument: “The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.” In human relations the most extreme loss is that of one’s child but the loss of someone one loves tenderly comes in as a spectacular second, with a much more elevated pathos.

The reason this is preferred by Poe and a myriad of authors is that a parent-descendant relationship is a natural one, where choice has roughly no role, whereas in a romantic relationship, while having a powerful natural component, active choice is central. This is why a parent losing a child usually goes with the line: “A parent should not live to see their child die,” when a lover’s loss comes with: “They were taken from me.” So, while the first kind of death evokes the more profound pain, the second one is the more aesthetic. It is a better case of antagonism: what one actively binds themselves to, pledges to unite their identity to, is actively deprived from them by a second actor, thus their willing choice for whom they would value most highly in life is irrevocably undone.

The peak is then the death of a beautiful woman but it can only be a real peak if the beauty of that woman is fully realized. 

An interesting juxtaposition can be made here between the book’s model and the contemporary one. The book emphasizes multiple faculties, such as intelligence, a charitable nature, intuition and nobility of character, whereas today’s model is derived from the passions of the flesh. Contemporary theories favor a simplifying approach, which marks the core of all traits the sexual of a person. However, Frankenstein is a great example of how it used to be a valid action to discrete the sexual, the intellectual and the emotional. Today it would be called repression of the true motives (the sexual), since all the faculties associated with beauty are just expressions of the deeper, truer core of identity. Feminists of the past would have pointed out that the death of the beautiful woman symbolizes Shelley’s vision of the intelligent, competent woman’s fate, as she is determined to die, even by the principles of literature (or Poe). Today’s most progressive feminists, though, would confine this story to the literal body of women, however, not only a story but women, and all people, are much larger than bodies.

But Frankenstein is not the perfect novel. Whereas it succeeds at many things and has its outstanding merits, it does fail at anticipating what the reader can guess, as Frankenstein misinterprets a supposedly enigmatic line and prepares for his own death, when his soon-to-be wife is threatened. Sadly the target is so obvious that it’s impossible to believe what the protagonist believes to come next but, as I have stated before, this is a completely marginal element of the story and perhaps even Shelley didn’t want to make it a really elaborate twist...

All in all Frankenstein is the beacon of the lost genre of horror. But beside its literary quality it might also be a reminder to the readers that there used to be a way of thinking that thought it possible to abstract from the material.