Let us take a journey back to the days of yore, when we used to frolic in the sunshine and climb trees without hesitance. It was a time when global warming was some trivial matter that no one, including the polar bears, was aware of. The video games that we'd play were 2D side-scroll fighting games (Street Fighter, anyone?) that we'd always play at a friend's house because we had neither the time nor money to be purchasing consoles and whatnot.
Our story takes place in a land not too far away, and yet, almost certainly forgotten up until this point. This was a magical, wondrous dimension in which people and children alike (don't argue the difference - just accept it) read and had read to them, books. "Books?" you must be asking your computer or mobile phone (if you're really that high tech, not to mention wealthy to boot) screen, with your mouth slightly ajar as you place the final touches on the question mark that so rightfully completes your inquisition.
Well, you can shut that mouth, or trap (as some may coin it despite the various other connotations), as I do indeed mean the stacks of sheets of paper, some thick, others slim, usually encased betwixt two rather sturdy decorated cardboard pieces or otherwise one large, molded section of criminally thin card that is flimsier than most all of the birthday cards that I have ever received. Let me tell you now, the quantity would make any grown man's (or trap's) goods shrivel in disbelief. Books could include any variety of worldly, and even more interestingly, other worldly content from the front cover to the back. Author's worked themselves to the bone to express their ideals and contextual beliefs write tales that they wanted the world to enjoy(except for Lemony Snicket - he just wanted to seem hateful).
But now I ask you all - where did our passion for reading disappear to? Belonging to Generation Y, I have been in the midst of the technological advancements in the past 17 years, despite there not being terribly many in the first few. As a wee infant, I got much joy through reading books about heroes, dragons and fantastical places that would rarely even appear in my dreams. Not just this though, I also gained insight into the wonderful dimension of one's imagination. Not mine at first, but those of other people served a purpose in forming my own unoriginal lake of thoughts. Why a lake? Because I like the idea of a ripple effect.
As children, and even as adults, the books that we read tend to leave some sort of impact on all of us. It doesn't matter the age we live in, because everyone is able to get something out of a story, whether they like it or not. It induces feelings, with us feeling excited, agitated, angry or even bored stupid. I think to myself now, it was that Harry Potter series that left me bored and nothing else is to blame. I was a changed person after reading that series. I became someone I never wanted to be - a reader of Harry Potter. But what's done is done, and it has made me have a strong disliking towards women who buy themselves castles - talk about achieving the common childhood dream. I wonder if J.K. Rowling has her own tiara and everything?
Regardless of what it is that we read, there is always new material to be learnt. By learning, I do not mean the expanding of one's knowledge base, but rather the expanding of one's experiences and responses in the world. As cliche as it may indeed sound, there is something to be gained from books and it seems that we were only able to appreciate this back in the days when technology did not dominate our society. With the ever rapidly increasing introduction of new gadgets that make us all go starry-eyed, we have forgotten our faith and values in books, which has lead to our losing of touch with the arts in general. Some will argue that we now embrace the creative world from new angles through the use of computers and other various technologies, but it does not share the same heart with what we used to associate ourselves.
So let's take a moment, just a small fragment of time when it is available to us, to sit down in some place comfortable with a warming beverage and read a book or two. You might find it rather pleasant and possibly even a wholeheartedly enjoyable experience. There's no telling what wonders it could work for you. You could wind up connecting with a part of yourself that you thought had been long dead. So appreciate books for what they are, because there might come a day when technology reigns supreme, and you'll never be given another chance to read that last page.
Costumus
Well, it has been quite some time since I sprayed my figurative spermicide everywhere, killing several millions, even billions, of strapping young sperms around the globe. To all of you out there who own, or are indeed the property of, a man/male adolescent, I suggest that you stow away that which will some day impregnate you... Or not.
I've found that there's always, since I can remember, been the topic of romance that floats around, wreaking havoc wherever is decides to go. It's something of a touchy notion to a few, something of chivalry to others. It is often regarded as an area that only females wish to explore and that us, oh so masculine males, choose to ignore. Although if you are clever enough to operate the web browser on your computer, and I'm very sure you are, you'll realise that this isn't exactly the case. Males do, get ready for it... 1, 2, 3... at the very least think about this crazy, little thing called love (please mind the Michael Buble/Queen reference). We may not like that it crosses our minds from time to time, but it does, whether we like it or not.
Females, on the other hand, may enjoy the concept of love - it might just make your heart flutter, ladies. But I certainly don't believe that it's as common in women as the stereotype would suggest. I personally think that males enjoy it more than women do, as there is, I've found, a certain thrill to the whole idea. Of all the people whom I have conversed with, which doesn't amount to much, I would sum up that more men talk about romance than women. It's even been conveyed to me that females get annoyed when it comes to talking about such a troublesome topic. But isn't this only normal, for love is something that seems to be in wait around every corner, ready to dump its lack of promise on us?
By no means, though, am I saying that people lacking the male genitalia have no passion for that which doth mock them. On the contrary, there are a few who even take the Mickey out of me with their issues, thinking that talking to someone else about it will alleviate their emotional stress. Heck, I've had so much Mickey taken out of me that I could try overdosing on Disney and I'd never get enough.
As I do not actually plan on what to write whenever I start up on a post (as rare as it is), I tend to contradict myself a lot and change tones middle of my writing, but that's just what I do. At this point, I wish to disregard gender reactions to romance, as they seem relatively even to me on both sides. Let's just make sure we've established this - girls like love, boys like love, girls dislike love, boys dislike love. Okay? Are we all happy? Yes? Right-o, boys and girls, strap yourselves in, because our advanced English journey starts here.
Over the years I've found that I associate romantic films with people who enjoy love. I'd expect a few of the readers to be readying their hateful comments, scribbling on a piece of scrap paper, "Note to self:- Comments to make on Costumus' blog post - Oh, are you still talking? I thought you'd might have finally realised how pointless your posts are and that they are largely unappreciated. I mean, of course people who are into the whole romance thing will enjoy a romantic movie. Honestly, grow a brain that's bigger than your phallus."
Sorry, but no can do. I'm stuck with this ol' thing. Yes, there are people who watch this genre of film out of their own free will, but others refuse to go down so easily. They'll fight and plea not to watch such rubbish, but will still probably end up seeing it. If they don't, they'll either regret it to some extent, or at least consider whether their decision was so wise or not. As much as we may deny it, and I by no means account for everyone, there is some small part inside of us that finds pleasure in seeing that romantic kiss or some other cliche love scene. For me, there is some essence there that intrigues me. It does so because it seems so unrealistic that I must wonder if it would be possible in the real world. Probably not, but that's what dreams are for.
People want to feel loved. Unless they're one of the few 'emos' left, in which case, I'd proceed to laugh at them. The desire to be cared for and considered special by someone else is something natural. You may not notice it, but it is definitely there. I used to think that I was one who resented the love of others, but then found myself still helping them and trying to appeal to them. That said, there's a part of me that does indeed ward off love. There's a certain wickedness, in my opinion, that surrounds it. Some aura that will taint me if I get too involved with it. But I've already been stained, just like most everyone else. I only wish to wash some of it away at least.
Love is a lost concept. People don't know what to make of it because it just has too many interpretations. It exists, it doesn't. It's the bonding of two individuals' souls. Love is family. Love is physical. Love is mental. Love means many things to different people because they all respond to it with varying reactions. I am unable to hate the concept that is love, but I'm much closer to hating it than wholeheartedly enjoying it. Love is the root of Evil. It creates things, feelings, that we have never known before, and we can be lead to commit deeds that we are not proud of. I can feel self-loathing wash over me whenever I decide that I like one person just that little bit more than another.
I do try to hate this concept as it appeals so strongly to my addictive personality. I'll just say that I am easily frightened. Frightened of that which I do not understand.
Costumus
Some describe it as fate, others as luck - what are the chances of something going right?
I've never considered myself to be a very lucky person, but in my belief, there is luck, not fate. Fate would suggest that there is a set path which things must take, but that would mean that whatever choice we make, we ultimately cannot change fate, which puts fate in the category of barbaric pointlessness. I'd pool it together with war. People who believe in fate, by my reckoning, ought to all be atheists, because they lead themselves into thinking that from birth their lives have been set. So no matter what good and ill deeds they commit they will not alter anything. Molds for life do not exist. Sorry to burst your bubble. Fate is for the weak minded, but please, prove me wrong. I relish in it.
As I mentioned above, I do not feel that I am very lucky, but does anyone? All you have to do is consider your life and realise how many good things that have occurred in it are due to luck. I committed some of my time to this today after waking up from a rather comfortable slumber on top of a bare knife. Luck is something that makes life interesting, although not movies. Luck in motion pictures has a tendency to be corny and expected. For example, protagonist has one last shot in his/her pistol and manages to shoot and kill the antagonist with all odds pitted against them. It does nothing to spur us mentally, it just keeps us comfortable to know that the good guy does not die. Luck in reality, on the other hand, is something of a phenomenon, because it can make one wonder, Whoa... How did that happen?
Near-death experiences, in my opinion, are all based on luck. The reason that luck fascinates me so is that there's no method of determining why and when it will strike. Of course, there is always the possibility that something will happen, no matter how slight the chance may be, but thinking realistically, there are just some things that oughtn't occur.
I'm encouraged to wonder if luck is deserved. Do people get lucky because a good turn is simply due to them? The obvious answer would be 'no, of course not'. Those with comfortable lifestyles are the ones with all the luck, while those who starve and live in poverty don't ever get a break. Luck could be an internal phenomenon, but I doubt it. There are so many external factors that affect the way in which things happen.
I myself believe that luck is a combination of strength of mind and external factors. Maybe luck doesn't even exist - it could simply just be a term that people use in order to convince themselves that many things are out of their control, even if they quite obviously aren't.
Costumus
It was while in the dreaded, pointless physics class that I allowed my thoughts to stray to a leisurely state of reminiscence. This is one of several measures that I must employ in order to contain my hatred for the rubbish excuse of an excuse for a teacher who finds the necessity to throw anyone within a 10 meter radius of her into a spiraling, mind numbed, driveling husk of something remotely human that I cannot place a finger on.Items of perpetual hate on legs aside, that reclusive mind of mine decided to focus on the various figures of beauty which have graced my eyes over the few years that I've walked this earth. As I dwelled upon these thoughts,
I recalled memories of some of these eye pleasers. I realised that all of them were not what they appeared. They all shared a tendency to be cold and arrogant. All people have their ugly sides, but it seems a little obvious that some are more hideous than others.
Why do pretty people tend to have uglier personalities? I don't even know my reasons for asking that when the answer is right in front of me. They simply have more confidence in themselves than others and put themselves above others because they believe that they have more to offer. It amuses me how conceited one can be, but they are out there and if anything, they like to flaunt themselves to every other 'ordinary' person.
I do sympathise for those with attractive physical characteristics. When you have the rest of society, comprising of like-minded people, remaining down to Earth is no simple task as everyone else lifts you up.
Indeed, I pity all you beautiful people. I beseech you, just stay in one spot and look pretty for all you're worth, else someone might pick up on how ugly you really are.
Costumus
Something that we are instructed to do multiple time throughout our lives by the likes of our elders. It is a completely understandable and fair request when we behave like mindless barbarians who have just reached post fetal stage. As one being among the human populace who is not, I feel that it is my duty to tell these incomprehensibly idiotic jack-in-boxes to grow the bloody hell up. There is really no argument that one can present to justify such behaviour. You had your time being young, so grab hold of a little thing called maturity. It might just do you some good if you believe in such a phenomenonal thing as luck.
But enough of that rambling and on to what I believe is the real issue - people who try to act older than their age. This can be found, with minimal trouble, within the teenage demographic of the population. These underdeveloped, cretinous abominations seem to gain the idea that if they act more mature than their age, they will undergo a transformation that will leave them as glorious, shining beings who ought to be revered by the rest of society as something oh-so special.
"But why is this so wrong?" some may ask. Have these people ever possibly read a novel that is more than 10 pages in length? Most probably not, and if they have, it was not much over. 'Be yourself' was what the protagonist was always told by some wise character that would, in any novel aimed at an audience over the age of 12 years, have been later killed tragically. Despite the fact that the majority of this nation at the very least would have seen or even heard these two simple to comprehend words, we do not take them to heart. No sir, we do not. I don't, you don't, none of us do. The reason being that we want attention, like it or not, and will do most anything to obtain this popular commodity.
Humans are not interesting - we all want the same things in life. It's all just a matter of the methods we employ to gain these wants. What I do find intriguing, though, is what people will throw aside in order to get their filthy, deformed(that's correct - how many other organisms have like ours?) hands. One's character can be altered entirely when they try making themselves seem mature to others. Take for example, the teenager who tries to talk like an adult so that he/she may be accepted by the significantly older teenagers university students. Do they ever stop once to think how they might be affecting their sibling(s) who are accustomed to following closely at their heels? No, they do not. We are selfish and will put our best interests ahead of others'.
Do I make an attempt to be older than my age? Of course. I revel in the challenge of doing so. It makes life just that little bit exciting and compels me forward to live in it so that I may one day decipher its code. But like I previously stated, there are still sacrifices that must be made to adopt such an occupation. I have become arrogant and so cynical that I place the least trust of all in myself. I can be cold to people and stay detached forever more if I wish it, but that's really only revealing one small part of myself, is it not? Why not try to be a little more versatile? How about giving a knock on Curiosity's door, some time? My only answer up to date that I am able to provide is that I'm not prepared to learn more about myself at this point in time.
While we're still young, we had might as well just accept it because it is not human nature to go backwards in life, so once the chance passes, there is no turning back, unless of course you wish to shunned by the rest of society. It is not a conformist concept, just plain logic. Try it if you find the time. Remember that while one's self can really behave however they want to, it is never a wise decision to play out of your depth. Be careful - you might drown.
Costumus
The interwebs - home to a whole variety of pretty, ugly, fat and just plain uncanny delinquents who compose themselves as something they are not. Or maybe something that they really are, that they are unable to share with the the oh-so bland world of real.
Indeed, I succumbed to the the alluring concept of blogging, but everything both within and without existence will eventuate, no matter how contrary it may be.
I'll blog to compensate for the lack of my vocal use in the real world. Speaking is a tiresome, troublesome chore that I prefer to avoid in under most circumstances, as I prefer the way of the mind. Let that, in conjunction with my fingers, do the talking for me. Let us mull our thoughts over before venting them in everyone's faces.
The internet can reveal the true intelligence and nature of those who wish to utilize it. I'll admit to my crime now - I am a coward. But all I'm doing then is confessing to a crime which everyone is guilty of. We'll take ourselves, and then be thrown into the depths of our very own arrogance and self hate, just to make us seem stronger than other users of the internet. The following day, we may see the very person to whom we were so unforgivably cruel and put on a charade, as if no misdemeanor occurred in the first place. We all let ourselves succumb to it at some point, whether we realise it or not.
The mind is only complex if you make it so. The mind will fit to shape the mould that we set for it. Despite this, don't tell me to 'keep it simple, stupid' because the complexity is what allows any piece of existence to be worth anyone's interest.
Our curiosity is what compels us to move forward in this life of seeming pointlessness. The internet allows us to share the contents of our inquisitive minds with each other, which gives us the ability to move forth in reality as a whole.
Costumus
