And so I am invited to write by my Other self. There isn't a theme in particular to write on, but then, there rarely is. Oddly enough, it is New Year's day, although by the time I publish this (if I do), it wll be past midnight. Its a fairly monumental day to write on, and hence I shall coax myself to ramble on. Its funny, the climax of 'When the music's over' is playing in the background, and nothing else (eg. blogging) can really matter, but then, here I am, a living contradiction of ideals, as I constatly violate the ideals I stand for. It's all good, I remind myself, and decide to write on, the whole idea now seeming more pointless than ever before. It would make a modicum of sense if I actually wrote about something at all, instead of being self obsessed that I am, accentuated when i'm drunk. I could write about the action packed, fun filled (?) last week or so I've had. Matter of fact, it's an rollercoaster continuum that I can't put start and end tag to, but hey, that's what bloggers and other sellouts (tweeters, facebookers and socialites in general) do, don't they? I must be consistent with the stereotype.
So I visited Bath, Bristol, Portsmouth, Ipswich and Oxford; saw a multitude of museums, churches, abbeys, castles, mansions and other structures with pointy tops. I was in the company of ostensibly interesting people, and I had a fairly questionably good time, just like everything else I do. Question is, how is one kind of enjoyment different from another anyway? Isn't having a wonderful dream while in bed at home an equivalent high to a potential, probabilistic joy that you might receive by visiting the oldest, largest and best museum, cathedeal or university in the world? I mean, it is an elicitation of a brain state, or is it? I've had one of the best times of my (present day) life having an argument about an age-old and thoroughly impractical concept, like free will, with a bunch of psychology students. It's given me more joy than any trip abroad would ever give (I could be wrong, of course). I just don't see the point of spending tens and hundreds of pounds "exploring" the world, "being" with good people (it often ends up being just people, desperate as you are), and "experiencing" "joy" in the "feeling" of "oneness", of "connecting", "sharing" and "living" the moment. A simulator's nightmre I must admit. On a more rational and unbiased note, honestly, isn't it possible to do all this without all the hype, glitz and prodigality of a typical Londoner? I mean, how hard can it be to be in good company and have a good time? Why the whole artificial social structure? Really, why?
I know it's New Year's (just like it was Christmas a week back [and I must admit, the festive spirit did feel good]), and don't get me wrong, I did have an excellent time. But I still wonder, what really matters? The fireworks display at London Eye was excellent, but there was immense social pressure involved in organizing and attending it, all parties involved, let alone the monetary and energy costs. I wonder why people can't all just stay home, maybe with a loved one, eat home healthy food, and meditate. That's a good New Year's eve plan right there. Why the intoxication, why the long travel, why the need to belong to a group or a person? For God's sake, snap out of it. you're complete and happy, and you don't need a "successful" (i.e. something that you can brag about) New Year's eve to convince yourself that you are happy and that everything's alright in life. You are, and it is!.... Just be! Live the moment, don't make extravagent plans in the probabilistic hope of having a prospecive good time. It's all rather artificial and result-oriented. Just live now, the way it is, it's perfect, it's beautiful. See it!