"Baaaaaaa!"

...said the sheep.

Never underestimate the stupidity of large groups. Interesting to observe how often we let our hearts and brains be overruled by peer pressure; jump on bandwagons, go with the flow, automatically agree with the consensus. Politics, religion, large organisations...

Yesterday, I read a message board thread that shook me quite a lot. I refuse to divulge the details of the board or the thread, however, it started off with someone seeking help/advice on dealing with another member's posts, which they found consistently abrasive. After a few posts, the identity of the member in question was disclosed. As more and more people replied, it became clear that the member was stepping on a lot of toes. The thread resultantly spiralled - nay, plummeted - into a defamatory bitching-fest. A handful of posters expressed disapproval of the nature of the thread, but they were lost in the tirade of heated emotions and offended people building upon each other. Eventually, the thread was closed and people were instructed to use the proper complaints/concerns channels.

It's so easy, in the heat of the moment, to go along with people when they express what you're feeling inside, is it not? To think/say/do things that you later realise were wrongful. To be a bully without realising, even when you know from personal experience how horrible bullying can be.

Easy, also, to allow originally inclusive, egalitarian groups to become exclusive and elitist. Once enough like-minded people are gathered, it is easier to attract more similar minds, rather than welcome a person who disturbs the status-quo. Support groups become collective back-patting, group-hugging affairs, offering plenty of help, love and reassurance for those who fit in and "deserve" it. Much like many mainstream Christian churches.

Pity the black sheep.

Daily Dilatoriness...

Procrastination. Delay. Putting something off, leaving life on hold.

We've all done it at one point or another. Some are far more gifted at it than others. Doing all sorts of unnecessary things, rather than "getting your stuff done", as the video puts it.

When I think about how often I seek out inane activities to fill my day, I'm slightly disturbed. It's easier to switch off; to do something that requires little effort, costs little and benefits little.

But "procrastination" implies there is something worthwhile to do; something important and significant is being avoided. How much of our day is occupied with what might be considered momentous undertakings?

Perhaps a more pertinent question would be, what might be considered significant? Important? Noteworthy?

"All is vanity...." Is anything worth doing in life?

Mundane necessities, such as eating or defecating? We need to do them to maintain our mortal coil, but are they important? Earning money, buying possessions? It all eventually declines and decays, and it's not like we're taking it with us. Helping people? Solving problems, becoming famous, building a legacy?

In our search for meaning, humans have come up with untold numbers of philosophies and religions. Something "after", something that lends greater meaning to our actions and lives. A desire to be "remarkable"; we elevate people to the status of celebrity, and obsess over fame and fortune.

Perchance nothing we achieve or obtain in life is of worth. But then again, mayhap everything in which we partake is of significance and import, no matter how seemingly trivial.

You've given your whole life to becoming the person you are today. Was it worth it? Does it matter, do you care and what difference will it make? Everything? Nothing?

We all have our views, but ultimately there's only one way to find out. And those who reach such enlightenment tend not to be particularly vocal.

Memento mori.

A/S/L?

21/M/Apathyville, State of Confusion, Earth

WLTM: Maker. Has much to answer for.

So I'm currently on pills, the list of possible side effects for which is as long as my arm; horrific birth defects (meaning I must remember not to get pregnant, and use at least two forms of contraception...), dry lips, nosebleeds, pancreatitis, brain swelling, photosensitivity, infections, depression, mood swings and suicidal thoughts to name but a few.

I'm blaming what happened this week on the meds. Because I never, ever thought I would manage to be stupid enough to try and drown myself. In half a litre of rum. On a completely empty stomach. In under half an hour.

Not big, not clever.

I've done more than a few foolish things in my time. This one ranks rather high. An especially frustrating day at work, on top of a lot shit happening re: humans, on top of me being idiotic, led to the thought: "I'm going to get drunk tonight". I suppose it seemed like a good idea at the time. After the first three double shots, I just took to swigging from the bottle (as you do...) and had soon drained it dry.

Now, friends will attest that I am no stranger to booze, and not a particularly lightweight drinker, either. But this was the first time I've ever vomited from alcohol, and it's probably a good thing I eventually managed to. Fortunately, I was still up for work at 6am, and true to form had no hangover today.

Ironically, it did make the world appear to be a better place, in a way; I hit rock bottom and bounced back up. C'est la vie. Realised I was being a twat.

Live and learn.

Oh, and I've promised not to kill myself while I'm on the pills. Just in case it's the chemicals doing my thinking.

=)

Leopold von Sacher Masoch

Leopold von Sacher Masoch, the Austrian author from the eighteen-hundreds who became the namesake of the term "masochism":

1. The deriving of sexual gratification, or the tendency to derive sexual gratification, from being physically or emotionally abused.

2. The deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from being humiliated or mistreated, either by another or by oneself.

3. A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

I'm not really interested in the first two definitions. Kinky, but not currently pertinent. It is the third and final meaning of the word that I feel applies to me all too well. I am a glutton for suffering at times, and I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or not.

I enjoy pain and physical hardship. My job and my hobbies all involve various degrees of discomfort, on many different levels. Life is easier to handle when it's there; I begin to fall apart when I'm not getting enough. My mind torments me psychologically, emotionally; why not physically, too? It helps balance things; if my body is missing out, the mind tends to compensate by becoming insanely depressed.

Self-destructive behaviour? Maybe. Maybe not. After all, what doesn't kill you, merely postpones the inevitable.

This evening, I deliberately harmed myself for the first time in ages, since mid-2008. Not much, just a few wounds. It felt...good. It still feels good. The blisters are fresh and raw; it throbs exquisitely, focusing my mind on something it can't use to chew up my insides. The scars are rarely noticeable, unless you look close enough. It's infinitely better than comfort-eating, which just leaves me feeling pathetic and even more miserable.

Right? Wrong? Does it matter? Should it matter? Is it worth fighting? No pain, no gain; so is the pain a bad thing?