Not wanting things is a sin.
And I’m not talking about cooperations or ‘the man’, I am talking about your friends and the people around you. When they ask me what I want for my birthday or what Iwould like to get for christmas I have absolutely nothing to tell them. Nothing substantial that they can buy, pack and put under the tree. “But you must want something?”
I had a SinterKerst celebration with my old roommates which involves a game that distributes nice and lame gifts among their players. After the game ended everyone can trade untill each player has about the same amount of gifts. at the end of the game I didn’t really want any of the gifts; not because I was ungrateful, but because I felt that I had no real use or room for them and that the other people might want them. My friends were baffled at this, at the mere premise that I didn’t NEED anything and therefor didn’t WANT anything. It was ridiculous in their eyes, eventhough the model; Need-Want-Buy suggest that when i don’t need an object, I don’t want that object and then do not buy that object.
Why can’t I not want anything? Isn’t that just fine? Isn’t it healthy? Isn’t it good for my finances?
Think about it.
“ Yos, wat ben je lekker bezig!
omdat dat wel eens gezegd mag worden C:
Iedere dag voelt als een week, de dagen gaan traag.
Hoe had ik je je bestaan kunnen ontzeggen?
Ik voelde me wel beter voor een dagje.
Tot vandaag.
Want ik was het doosje vergeten.
Het doosje met foto’s en dingen met daarop redenen waarom ik van je hield.
En het doosje met redenen is oprecht, en ik weet dat die waar is.
Ik weet gewoon niet waar ik je moet plaatsen nu.
Het zou zoveel makkelijker zijn als ik je echt kon haten.
Maar ik ben bang dat ik dit echt niet zonder je kan
en daarom blijf ik je spreken.
en laat ik je nog niet los.
There is no way I can embrace the past time now.
I call it time wasted. Time thrown away.
Now, I’m in mourning.
And I resent you for it.
^Edit: Ik heb dit bovenstaande nooit echt gemeend
maar het volgende is waar.
————————————————
Maandag 20 juni had een beeld, een foto die ik voor me zag, een blauw grijze muur waar alleen het bovenste gedeelte van een smalle kast, bruin hout. Bovenop die kast stond een vaas, een soort van urn met blauwe krullen betekent. De vaas staat op het randje en neigt te vallen. Dat was het beeld van de dag.
Ik voel alsof ik die vaas zag verschuiven, in de loop van de tijd. Dat ik die vaas zag bewegen maar dacht, hij valt toch niet, komt wel goed. Maar het komt niet goed, het is mijn leven komt het nooit goed als iemand moet zeggen dat het goed komt, dus pakte ik die drie woorden en sloeg ze tegen de kast. De vaas viel, en toen was alles stuk.
maar ik word beter
I wonder what the ancient writers would say if they’d hear what is said about their work. I wonder what they would say. Are we way off point? Were the great philosophical minds of known history nothing more than brilliant fiction writers? Are there architects of text, do they exsist? When something is constructed as a story, isn’t it just a story?
Writers write stories, philosophers creat the deeper meaning behind the story. it was my favorite YA-lit writer John Green who said that he was suprised at how much teachers and students had gotten out of his books. “I didn’t put that in, but it’s incredible that it exists.”
But what would they say? Is there anything behind the two dimensions of the written word?
Yes and no.
There is this saying that goes as follows: If you let a thousand monkes, behind a thousand typewriters, type for a thousand years, you’ll eventually get Hamlet.
Does this make the story less compelling? Does it deflect the effect it has had on art, culture and theatre.
I believe there are two types of artists. Those who create something out of nothing and those who create culture.
So what would they say?
Nothing. The artists have created and did what they were “supposed to do”, so to say. It was up to the “other” artists to have their merry way with that which was created and pull from those two dimensions a culture that is still evolving to this very day.
It is not what the writers meant to say, it is how we choose to interpret what they have written.
afterthought: How will they look back on the soap operas in a few era?
Soms vraag je je af; Wat moet er nu echt gebeuren?
Wat wil ik doen voordat het einde gekomen is?
Ik voel me altijd wel prettig bij het feit dat ik één ding al gedaan heb.
Iemands leven redden.
I’m afraid to want things.
When you want things, there’s a big chance you can’t have those things and you’ll be let down. I don’t want to want things, because when you don’t ever want things, the things you get are just nice to get and the things you don’t get you never really wanted. Not wanting things is just easier.
But you always want things. You have dreams and aspirations, you want to want things, you want things to happen, to happen to you, to happen for other people. You always want to want things.
I’m not making any sense, but I’m afraid to want things. I’m just done with being let down.
There are some things that I feel people take for granted. It’s not only self-respect and self-worth, but the feeling that you are a person, and that your life is valuable. I do not possess this and I feel empty for it.
I rode my bike home today, and felt an overwhelming sense of panic. I didn’t know what else to do than just control my breathing, which was out of control. I felt helpless, small and lonely. “Who is going to take care of me?” Who takes care of the caretaker?
I want to cry some more, but it doesn’t matter how hard I’ll try, I’ll just get a headache and leave the endeavour as unfruitful as a saltwater flood.
I’m done. The music playing, crisp and clear through my new installation is soothing me enough to start packing the last of my things.
What is it that makes you like yourself? Why do you want to be around yourself? What is it that makes the people around you stay around you?
To me, this question is extremely difficult. I have no idea as to what to answer. Every answer I give has something to do with something that lies outside myself and is not inherently mine. What is it that makes me proud to be me?
[…]
I guess I am a good judge of character, I have a sense of humor, a good head on my shoulders, I’m giving, loyal, reasonable, uhm…
But on the other hand, I’m impatient, messy, always tardy, lazy and sometimes sort of a know it all.
I don’t know how I feel about me having to make lists to make sense of things. I’m too critical for my own good and I’m starting to feel bad about myself mainly because of myself. I need to work on this… but it’s not like fixing a leaking faucet, there isn’t a manual on the internet you can follow to make things work again. It needs time… a lot of time.
Done.
