Do you know these moments, when lying in bed late Friday morning, when after long hour of thinking about how dissatisfying your life is to you? And out of a sudden, you tell yourself to suck it up, and jump out of your bed to meet your friends over a cup of coffee and a sum of Blah blah blah conversations?
Friday has been always a day of emptiness to me; whatever I try to do; whomever I try to meet, it has always been a freaking Friday to me, but this Friday, by all means...was the worst.
From Sunday till Thursday I try to go on with life, 9 hrs of work, hang out with friends, try to get myself busy with all types of whatever activities are happening in evenings; I get home late, talk to mum, watch news, tired and empty I go to bed, think of work, put lists, write reports, read reports till I am sleeping, dreamless, feelingless I wake up, and off to another day.
I got my dream job not long ago, good position in an international NGO, doing interesting things but being sucked into the system. when I realize myself in the little moments of silence, I have those moments of little revolution which usually never survives the day. and I go on...
I love my job, don't get me wrong... I'm gaining loads of experice every day, but the passion that I've lost keeps kicking and screaming every now and then, and mostly...on Fridays.
On Fridays, I realize the emptyness, I lose the ability to resist being there all alone, try to regain what's left of passion, what's left to me... of me, things have became pretty ugly and meaningless lately, and I wont be surprised if blogging will be too much for my uninspired brain, as I quit on many things before, as I quit on love and desires, as I quit on all my childesh dreams, as I am growing up... it doesn't feel like me any more.
Sadly, I have been sucked to the machine, I am dreamless and unhappy, uninspired and still confused. I feel betrayed by my own desire to get in touch with my feelings, to understand the constant dissatisfaction and to gain all meanings back.
Who am I?
- Dania
- Damascus, Syria
- Lost and Found, every day and every secound... Thats all I know, if you know more then let me know so I know that some one knows, you know.
Morals in Belfast
West Belfast
I.Heart.Graffiti
Global Xchange
4 comments:
Hi there...
Well, i dono from where to begin, but what i suggest is one day off, where you spent a couple of hours in a fancy spa, feeling relaxed and try to connect to your inner stillness, rearrange you thoughts, and goals cause no one can help you But YOU.
Sometimes we keep ourselves busy because we are afraid to face what we have or a decision to make.
i mean, what is the benefit if we achieve one goal from many ones in out life??? (we live once).
set up your priorities, and goals again and i'm sure that you will find the clue.
enjoy your time and live the moment.
You know, i am sure, that if you feed yourself with every luxury in the world, everything you want and get what you aspire and desire, in terms of your future, you will always feel hollow. Missing something, Needing something. Wanting something. It's human nature.
I am sure you could guess what this thing is?
For people who can't, it's the Truth of the world
Man becomes a “nine to fiver,” he is part of the labor force, or the bureaucratic force of clerks and managers. He has little initiative, his tasks are prescribed by the organization of the work; there is even little difference between those high up on the ladder and those on the bottom. They all perform tasks prescribed by the whole structure of the organization, at a prescribed speed, and in a prescribed manner. Even the feelings are prescribed: cheerfulness, tolerance, reliability, ambition, and an ability to get along with everybody without friction. Fun is routinized in similar, although not quite as drastic ways. Books are selected by the book clubs, movies by the film and theater owners and the advertising slogans paid for by them; the rest is also uniform: the Sunday ride in the car, the television session, the card game, the social parties. From birth to death, from Monday to Monday, from morning to evening—all activities are routinized, and prefabricated. How should a man caught in this net of routine not forget that he is a man, a unique individual, one who is given only this one chance of living, with hopes and disappointments, with sorrow and fear, with the longing for love and the dread of the nothing and of separateness? Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving
The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor. Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
In spite of increasing production and comfort, man loses more and more the sense of self, feels that his life is meaningless, even though such a feeling is largely unconscious. In the nineteenth century the problem was that God is dead; in the twentieth century the problem is that man is dead. In the nineteenth century inhumanity meant cruelty; in the twentieth century it means schizoid self-alienation. The danger of the past was that men became slaves. The danger of the future is that men may become robots. True enough, robots do not rebel. But given man’s nature, robots cannot live and remain sane; they become “Golems”; they will destroy their world and themselves because they will be able to stand no longer the boredom of a meaningless life. Erich Fromm, The Present Human Condition
http://www.philosophicalsociety.com/Archives/Philosophy%20And%20Depression.htm
If it is of any consolation, only the keen spirit and the well established consciousness are "capable" of "disgust"; the others contend themselves with an apathy that is sublimated into their unconscious, surfacing here and there but never understood or recognized. There's always a certain amount of tragedy in the act of thinking, Nietzsche says, for one always ends up seeing more than he is meant to see; but the choice between the strong and the weak is lacking, as it is between the thinking and the unthinking. My own pathologies often speak through my mouth, but let them, I figure, perhaps they'll end up saying something worthwhile.
Post a Comment