Being Sherlock

#southbound to Her, to the dentist and to sweet innocent dreams from the past

https://www.youtube.com/embed/u0zhZVKS1eo?feature=oembed

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0zhZVKS1eo)

sick as frick |-/

On Post-Holiday-Season Depression

I think many people are experiencing post-holiday-season depression now that we're past Christmas and are already in the new year. We've compressed most of our expectations, hopes and honest desires into a dream we thought would come true at this time of the year. I'm not saying that this week inevitably tumbled short on it because this typical sadness doesn't come from disappointment but from having gone through the whole thing without any of it contained--with only some material evidence, proving that it really happened.

With my girlfriend we have a little 4 years old tradition for Advent, where we make these heartwarming calendars for each other. One little surprise for each day. It's never really anything that amounts to a christmas present or something, just chocolate or tea or some small ornament (these from her and I wrote a novella broken up into pieces, one for each day). This tradition of ours isn't making this part of the year a huge, outstanding whirlpool of awesomeness. No doubt though, it certainly feels very nice and I'm always looking forward to it but it's not a big feat, really. However, when I run out of small packages I feel like crying. This routine of getting something nice for each day and giving something that I hope is encouraging, is missing terribly. For me its lack is so heartbraking that whenever I think about it I genuinly feel like crying.

The same applies for Christmas Eve, only on a bigger scale. That's the day, when my year reaches its climax. But it's gone. I still have my presents and memories but I couldn't hold on to the day itself.

New Year's Eve is also just a scar. It's a lot like sunrise or spring: a beautiful, romantic, shimmering start. Well, the promise of starting over again, which we humans can't help but believe in and to my greatest surprise it isn't completely baseless... New Year's Eve is a shiny, happy celebration most of the time but when it's past we're left with doubts about our convictions and hopes (ironically I've found this to be baseless).

When this part of the year is past and we're stripped from the air of sometimes loud, sometimes quiet ceremonialism, we can feel very low (surprisingly suddenly).

Often times I wonder if there's a cure for this sad state but I had the bitter revelation that there isn't.

When it's Christmas or New Year's Eve, or even when it's Advent, we may be gifted with something unearthly. I think these holidays allow us to see things we couldn't otherwise. And we're moving toward this transcendent greatness, only we don't always have the privilige of being lifted externally in addition to our futile efforts. These unutterable big things are what generally guide our imagination, when we're formulating definitions of everyday greatness and when we're trying to break out from the everydays.

I'm extremely sad by having all the celebrations brought to an end but I have my hopes intact and dreams unbroken--actually, I have them strengthened.

How to be afraid

Be afraid that you'll drop-out from school and you'll never find another one where you can fit in. Be utterly frightened that your book will never be published and that it's rubbish. Be genuinely fearful of the fact that your body can break-down in any minute because you have a disease that you think you're "too young for". Be worried about never finding a proper job. Be scared of never finishing anything. Be completely, undeniably and irreversebly drenched with fear and worries.

It's 00:12 here, in my parents' kitchen, where I write these lines, while listening to some classy music, that I invited to create the illusion of uppercase-life. But all this, around me, is built on I don't know what. I'm supposed to know, I ought to know but somehow I feel struck by worries. I've been the guy who never felt fear, the one who never regretted failure. But the ground has been shrinking under my feet and I wasn't paying attention and now I'm just floating in nothing. I feel miserable and defeated. My body is broken and so is my spirit. I know I shouldn't give in to the circumstances but I feel vulnerable and hurt. I'm immensely frightened.

Oh goodness, why am I saying this nonsense? This attitude in itself is the manifestation of everything I am against. The Bible says I should pray and do it with a thankful heart. It's extremely hard to do. But not impossible. I'm thankful for the love of my life (yes, I know we're young). I can't express how thankful I am for the promise of eternal life. This is something, that most of you can't put your fingers on. Well neither can I. But I feel that it is not a lie or fantasy. I believe because I have this splinter in my soul, shrieking: YOU'RE SAVED. And I am, indeed. My faith is not the one of the weak. It's the one of humans. Because none of us can fight or trick death. We all are subjects to it. We all are limited and vulnerable. We are creations. I find my hope and basically my life in the Creator of all of us. Even in these times. So, cheer up :)

Optimism, Pessimism, Perspective and the Question of Society and Art

Recently I experienced an emotional antinomy in regards of how current technology and social media affect art.

My first observation was that it multiplies the art outlets and creates a vast stock of memorabilia about artists for the ages to come. How nice would it be to read Fitzgerald’s tumblr posts.

The second observation was that the increased outlets and the conservation of everything brings about a horrific picture about our age. As cheap horror flicks went down the sewers a hundred years ago and then disintegrated from human remembering, we cannot anticipate today’s trash to just disappear because it will haunt the internet forever.

But just today I woke up with a realization that alleviated my passionate opinions. I remembered that people read and watch and touch what they choose to. The internet does not change the people fundamentally, it is exactly the other way around. However the current society wishes to shape the world of art, it is not a danger on the bigger arc of things. The case has never been changed, not even slightly, dumb people have always been into dumb things and smart people have always been into smart things. Any alternation that has ever happened happened in the individual’s life. We, as persons, and not as society, move forward. It is because of each individual’s limited time on earth: we start from nil and run as fast as we can to get the farthest possible but it does not affect society, as it survives the individual. Unless people can somehow learn to give birth to children with a refined sense of society in their heads, society will not become smarter or dumber, just a mass of us.

A brief look-back to my book

I'm still working on the little extension thingies for my book. It's been over a year and a month, that I started writing it.

One night I had the weirdest dream, probably of my entire (rather short) existence, about these kids being tricked and trapped in Underworld... I remember, I was in the middle of another "novel" (which by the way I still have not finished :P), and I was just browsing among self-publishing companies. I randomly filled out a registration for one site, as to see what it would cost me to publish myactualwork. I don't know for what reason, but I clicked children's books category, and then things just got crazy in my head...

Nothing real was set in motion but the next day I was called by this publishing company. A very nice woman was politely asking me about mybook. It blew my mind. I felt like I was arealwriter. For no apparent reason I started telling about my dream, insted of the project I was making. What I said was to no extent collected or organised but it didn't bother me much, I was just speaking. Dreaming of getting published...

In one week I wrote like twenty-five, thirty pages. I was extremely thrilled. But, then my joy was soon overcome byreason. I was (and still am (for a hopefully short period of time)) monetarily dependent on my parents. The cheapest publishing package was about 2000 pounds if I remember correctly... Anyways, they said, that a book is not a good investment. So they gave me exactly 0.00 pounds to follow my dreams...

I never give up. I didn't give up then, either... In the coming two months I finished my book, had it revised by a published author, who became a very good friend of mine on the way... After that I sent my manuscript to another friend of mine, who resides in Michigan, U.S.. He used to be a professor of genetics and his knowledge is literally unprecedented. Though I hardly agree with him on anything... So he revised it, as well. He said, it's not really good but he sees some potential... This is kind of like the greatest compliment I've ever heard from him, so it was extremely delightful to me, despite its actual indifference :P

My endurance was always fueled by my beautiful Special Girl (I never know how to call her because girlfriendis kind of awkward and she's not my wife yet, so I'd feel uncomfortable with calling her my Half). She is the greatest artist I've seen, or heard, or known about. The inspiration and motivation she gave me are like this once-in-a-lifetime thing, which we always hear abot but can never truly depict... She never let me give in, or turn blue...

And now, after a year, I'm here. Still trying to make it better. But in this one year, I've learned, that I'm ready to leave my parents' house. For good. I'll write. I'll marry my girlfriend (according to my parents) before time. These are my plans and I know, that I shouldn't be crossing the bridge yet, but there's this thing, called faith. I know this is my path because I was instructed this way, by my Heavenly Instructor... I don't fear the shadows of my future, or even my present because I know, that nothing can go so wrong, as to prevent me from becoming the man, that I'm born to become.

Packing

Fate now come, Dis App was ready in his dispositions and intentions. But a journey, he understood, depends on many things.

Sustenance and garments. Some money for emergencies and some for leisure.

And even the common, directionless man will tell you that when fate calls you cannot rely on the promise of happy returns. But Dis App, being strong and resolute, did not also anticipate failure.

Should he never return, there would still be a future for him. In sweet Far Away.

What should he bring into his life, finally starting? Probably not cheap furniture or utensils. But not even things so far his greatest treasures. Fate can’t offer less than the gray past. In fact it can only bring him to possess more.

But, Dis App thought, maybe a watch beside the essentials. Yes, it was a birthday present. And it is perhaps of no brand and the gilding is fake but the leather smells genuine. It is the most elegant thing of the so far. 

And maybe he doesn’t have to absolutely kill himself.

Man has not a single right which is the product of anything but might. Not a single right is indestructible: a new might can at any time abolish it, hence, man possesses not a single permanent right.

Mark Twain

The Secret Life of ME

Ben Stiller's The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013) got some harsh reviews on accounts of being a cliché and of praising the sort of life that only a substantial amount of money can make possible. Some critics even say they'll graciously overlook these because Ben Stiller's just not that profound and we like him for his unique and entertaining humor, not his abstract thoughts. I watched the movie today and I was blown away.

I had quite low expectations because of the reasons above, and my intention was simply to watch something light and to relax. It was light, yes, and it was relaxing, true, but it wasn't at all as superficial as some say.

The title character, Walter Mitty, is a guy, who, after his father's death, became a responsible adult, who had to put aside his dreams and desires, in order to provide for his family and himself. He lived a life, where adventure existed only in the form of fantasies and daydreams. The movie is about his brave moves of going out to the wild and exotic parts of the world.

I admit, even in my brief summary it sounds like a cliché. However, what makes this movie extraordinary is there, among those lines. It's not the story of a man, who's just a little gray piece of paper (even one of the characters says that he imagined him as that) but someone with a past, with hopes and dreams and abilities. I can't stress abilities enough because that's a crucial point in Walter Mitty's greatness. He does the things that he can actually do and not the impossible. In an early scene we see him perform cool skateboard tricks and that's him, not his imagination, him. Now I'm not saying that someone has to be able-bodied or some such thing to live a good life. My point is that this story shows us a guy, who's coming from somewhere and goes on doing amazing things that he's had the potential to do all along. If he's an athletic guy, then it's a good thing he does things that require that.

Another important element of his character is that he wants to travel. You can say that everybody likes traveling and it's their financial states that prevent them from going to see the world. However, this is a misconception. I see people around me everyday, who say they wish they could go abroad and see this and that part of the world but in reality, they're afraid of people, who don't speak their language, they're uncomfortable with hiking, they hate spontaneity and so on and so forth. If pricey hotels with fancy rooms and fluent English concierges is what you want, then that's actually achievable almost exclusively through spending a fortune on it. If you want to see nice landscapes but only without breaking a sweat, here's tumblr, where there are endless photos that you'll be happy with and that's that. But if you're one of the few adventurous people out there, willing to jump in the ice-cold ocean, then you can do that on very little money.

My point with these is that looking at the events in the movie very specifically will make you say that yeah, it's pretty cool but no one can actually do that. But those specific events would take place in the life of that very specific Walter Mitty.

This movie is about the lifestyle that our generation has forgotten but even a hundred years ago it was the prevailing idea. And I remember that when I was seventeen I wanted to be a journalist and travel to the Sahara and climb the Mount Everest. I know, from my own experience, that abandoning these dreams won't erase them from the fabric of my mind, only I can oppress them with the new idea of life. But it's wrong. It's so wrong actually that my fear or reluctance to realize at least some of them has resulted in having me now with a poor heart, probably incapable of climbing the Everest but at the same time, a heart that's aching to do it.

My conclusion is that not all of us are adventurers or journalists and we shouldn't try to be the things we can't be, so it's not necessary to pretend we're Walter Mitty. However, figuratively, our generation's father died and we've become responsible. But it wouldn't be irresponsible to stop playing it safe and stop living petty lives. We complain a lot and believe all the crazy-labels that are put on all sorts of awesome things and I think these two things are on the top ten list of things that are wrong with people of this era. Let's try to change that.