Contemplations: The Look

How intriguing, that a momentary sultry glance can arouse one's deepest desires;

Which lay dormant in the darkest recesses of one's heart;

Which is bounded by an impossible number of chains and locks;

Which are guarded by an unwavering wall of rationalism and pessimism.

How absurd, that such fortifications crumble dismally in the face of a mere glance - a stark reminder that one cannot be ridden of what one never wished to be deprived of in the first place.

How futile it is, to wage a war against oneself.

"My will is not as strong as it used to be".

Contemplations: Emptiness

I am sitting in a chair in the midst of delightful company. The atmosphere is bubbly and warm -enchanting in its liveliness. The air is filled with laughter, like the taunting cackle of crows as piercing rain torrents on funeral mourners, 'parading in the wake of sad relations as their shoes filled up with water'. And indeed I sit here drenched in ethereal rain, mourning a non-existent death.

As I scan the elegantly decorated room, I find that I am immersed in a scene of joy. It is infectious, stretching its graceful arms in a welcoming gesture. But it distorts as it approaches my seat; my temporal disposition a blot of black ink on a canvas of rainbow colours. It lingers - it dances around me, approaching tantalisingly close, swimming on the hairs of my skin, flirting with my emotions, before dissipating like specks of golden dust caught in a gust of icy wind.

I can see beautiful women, teasing with their silk hair and piercing stares. I can see men steal glances, firing cupid's arrow with every turn of the head, with dismal precision. Yet notwithstanding astray arrows, I admire their courage and vigor and rue my want of such intent; my only arsenal an array of blunt arrow excuses.

I am sitting in a chair in the midst of a celebration of life, yet I sit here drenched in ethereal rain, mourning a non-existent death, notching a blunt arrow of an excuse onto a tired bow.

Moving to a location near you!

So in light of my lack of time to post, I have decided to collaborate with two fellow wankers and combine our efforts to form one blog. So all posts henceforth (by me) will be posted here:

http://bachelorcity.blogspot.com/

Quick Entry: Bad Timing

1:31PM; 1 hour late for a soccer match, parked adjacent to a curb. Busting.

1:33PM; staring at the meter and realising I do not have any coins. Still Busting. Call a number to pay via credit.

1:43PM; operator informs me that their system is malfunctioning. I start to unbuckle my belt to relieve the pressure on my bladder. Contemplating peeing behind a tree, but notions of criminal law begins flooding my head and I ultimately decide against it.

1:44PM; after pacing around, discovering, to my glee, that I have three dollars in my ashtray.

1:46PM; paid for parking ticket. A wave of relief - until my true dilemma hits me: I do not know where the nearest toilet is.

1:50PM; find a girl walking into the uni and screaming: "HEY! Do you know where the nearest toilet is?"

1:55PM; standing inside a library. Girl directs me to the toilet. I earnestly thank her.

2:00PM; "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

2:01PM; realising that the girl was absolutely gorgeous and all I could think about was my bursting bladder. Fuck me.

Hypothetical Situation I

Aquinas' refinement of Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, considers docility (the acquisition of knowledge through others) as an integral constituent of the virtue of prudence. Vital to this notion is willingness to ask for advice, exercising the virtue of courage.

Personally, I recurrently stray from the mean. Rarely am I virtuous. At times I desire to seek advice and yet the courage to do so is lacking. I am hindered by an ethereal hand, pulling me back by the collar and that hand is indeed my own.

But for what I lack in courage, I make up for in guile. I obtain my advice through riddles and querying responses to 'hypothetical situations' (adapted to my personal circumstances no less) and so ultimately my advisor is none the wiser in regards to my inner secrets or motives.

And woe behold, a hypothetical situation?

I am walking down a mundane street, along a path of dull gray concrete. The weather is pleasant yet there is a distinctive and inexplicable unnerving ambiance. My journey is relatively unperturbed (imagine The Verve - Bittersweet Symphony) until I encounter an eccentric and unfamiliar store adjacent to a crossroads. On the display, behind the perfectly clear glass, is a vintage Gibson ES-339 in a beautiful sunburst finish. Price? "Inquire within". But why bother? It would be clearly too expensive for me and my lackluster guitar abilities would render me unworthy of such a fine instrument. Besides, I wouldn't have time to genuinely appreciate it.

But everyday henceforth, I will make the same journey, pass the same store and relive the same sentiments. With each successive day, I will slowly begin to believe that I do have the means to purchase this guitar; that I am deserving of this guitar, yet still I will not "inquire within".

At home, I will begin practicing profusely. The Gibson has reignited my passion for music. Inevitably however, my lack of improvement will spell the demise of my enthusiasm and eventually I will be convinced that I should give up on this instrument. Life goes on.

One day I will be dismayed to find that the guitar is sold. The tag will hang flippantly around its neck, taunting me with its very existence. What do I do then?

a) Empty my bank account, burst into the store, offer what I can. Fuck the considerations.

b) C'est la vie. I wasn't destined for this guitar anyway.

c) Continue practicing and find a similar guitar eventually.

d) Purchase a balaclava with the accumulated savings and roll the guy who bought it.

e) Make my own guitar out of pieces of Lego and hug it to sleep at night.

f) Have a cry.

Decisions, decisions.

Quick Entry: Photogenic (or not)

I don't remember when it was exactly that I began detesting the idea of having my photo taken. Direct a camera lens at me and I will instinctively shield my face as if a firearm was pointed at my nose ready to be fired point blank.

Those who are not photogenic will empathise with me. We lack the bullet-proof armor that would shield us from the rounds fired from the NIKON D-SLR at the nightclub or the camera phones of snap-crazy people.

Candid photos? Instant death.

I could never comprehend why there was a such a stark disparity between what is plain on the photographs and perceptions of myself through my own eyes. The same thought arises without fail each time I observe a picture of myself: "I distinctly don't remember being this ugly."

Yet why would the camera lie? It does not conspire to make certain people look like shit. It does not cunningly whisper to itself: "Oh look, here's that wanker guy again. Time to spread some turd on the lens to cover his face." It records what is there. So is that really me?

I hope not.

Note: I know, I know. I'm procrastinating. I'm half done with the play. It is now mid semester break, so I'll have some time to complete it.

Temptation

Temptation is a paradoxical notion in the sense that it is often associated with a desire that is undesirable. One's unwavering longing for something or someone may place one in a precarious position: does one succumb to temptation or is one staunch in one's resolution to avoid it?

You may argue that we only live once - you should enjoy your only chance at life. Why avoid the things that can potentially make you happy?

As my blog name would suggest, I am a thinker. In truth (despite my evident disdain towards 'dipshits') I envy those who do not have a tendency to stress their cranium with an assault of thoughts and considerations. I am forever wary of consequences; forever afraid of diving head first into the water. Uncertainty is the shackles that bind my hands and feet and I am eternally tripping over myself as a consequence.

Thus, I shirk from temptation. I am disciplined. I can tell myself that I can exist without such peripheral details in my life; that what I have now is all I need and all I ever need.

I am a miserable person indeed.