Somehow, by dint of incredible luck, one of the elliptical machines is free. It's all mine and all I have to sacrifice is my warm-up stretches. (I'll rethink this decision tomorrow)
It's Chinese New Year again. Last year's was happier, but as always the case with myself, I'm happiest in the middle of struggle (misery?). One bird in the bush is worth two in my hand. Sometimes the point of life is to take the road less travelled by (or the slug less trampled by, depending if you subscribe to Frost or Conley)
This is why we create beauty. It is so incredible that anyone can create something that another sees as beautiful, given humanity's varied tastes. Precipitously perched between "not enough" and "too little".
Anyway, this is how my day started. Despite the minor midlife crisis before supper, it has been good. The waking, the exercise, the crisis, has all culminated to this point; Where I stand here, amid hushing air vents, with a sweet in my mouth, amazed at how my day is beautiful again.
A lady at work has a chocolate coin glued to some paper handing in her cubicle. I waste two minutes wondering if I can pry it out delicately, obtain the sugar, then seal the empty foil. I waste five minutes wondering if this makes me a bad person.
What is the appeal of one beautiful thing amidst ugly things? The one perfectly ripe pear in a basket of rotted mush. Vice versa. What is the draw of one ugly thing encompassed by beauty? An old haggard lady laughing between supermodels. Perhaps it is the difference we seek, the novelty, or the unknown?
I beg to submit a radical postion on violence. Violence itself is not ugly. Two people fighting, with passion and determination, is not ugly. One person abusing another is ugly. The only thing that has changed is the victim. Is the root of the "ugly" in the reaction of the victim? In the loss of dignity? My dad once told me that "You cannot see in others what you do not have in yourself." This is one of the most elegant, and essential tools for understanding motivations that I have ever been gifted with. People are either attracted to or repulsed by something they have within themselves. This, also, is what composes anger. Acknowledgment of someone giving it to something you dare not. (I would like to emphasis that this does not place value judgements on the darer or the dared. Somethings should be dared, some should not.) From this anger comes schadenfreude, which divides us.
I would like to digress for a bit, and talk about a movie I saw a little while ago called "Children of men". Although it was violent I did not feel for a second that any of it was uncalled for or less then entirely accurate. This movie is, simply put, a masterpiece. When I go home tonight, I shall endevor to watch it again. Now I will degrade into spoilers. If you haven't seen it, just skip the rest of this paragraph. Someone asked me, "Why is it called 'Children of men'?" I puzzled for a while before hitting on the idea that in the movie, every woman is selfless and giving. Without exception. In the movie, every man is conniving and manipulating. Save one, of course, our hero, someone who animals love. I think the idea is that the children of women are peace and small humans, and the children of men are violence and chaos. Has anyone had any other thoughts on this?
I think I'm done here.