Citizen Of The Schismarchland

The inside of one's head includes the basic info that is required to create a social networking site account: who the person basically is and a few clues that indicate what the person likes and what it doesn't like. Other than that, tons of junk that one just can't let go of and clings to with a collector's passion. As in:

• the first time you did something.
• the last time someone did something to you.
• lots of wheres and a few whys.
• hundreds of memories and, depending on the person, zero to a dozen of plans for the future.
• a list of numbers that hold some meaning and a list of names that have a "flavour".

Those are the solid facts, the "nouns". The "adjectives" are the tabs one adds to all of the above. Depending on what you have been taught and what you have taught yourself, some things may be embarrassing and others funny. Some bad and some good.
One's feelings about each of the "nouns" are "adjectives" too. The emotional scale that covers all kinds of feelings characterizes the solid facts in one's head, depending on the current events: something may be particularly liked at one point and totally disliked at another for example.

Characterisations are subjective, unstable and have a very short life span in other words. Even inside one's head.

So why are certain ideas and acts identified as good/bad and everything in between by a large part of the population? Facts are facts because science is science, but when it comes to values, norms (and therefore codes of conduct) who decides what is acceptable and what isn't? I mean, honestly, who does? I don't. You don't. Anyone I know doesn't. Anyone you know doesn't. Yet I, you and all the people we know can pinpoint degeneration and debauchery at any given moment. Why? Does immoral or immature or anything that has a negative meaning smell bad? How is it that obvious?

In my opinion, the more you cry wolf, the more you are calling for one.

Perhaps the fact that nowadays everything has an instruction booklet aside from life, combined with the sharp rise of boredom in its purest form, makes us want to have some guidelines, some codex we can refer to when we find ourselves in a situation where we actually have to make a decision.
Because it's easier. Because we know that almost everyone will agree. Because it doesn't matter if our decision is right or wrong as long as it is accepted and approved of. Guns, violence and spilling blood are fun, but being the odd one out isn't. And by odd one out I don't mean belonging in a clique that only has a few members, I mean not belonging period. No one likes that kind of conflict...

I don't believe in races. I believe in transparent people and solid people; people who might have ended up believing and liking anything, but they just happened to be born in a certain environment and in a certain age, and people who no matter what the rest of the factors in the equation are, stand out because they know how to find their way to do things, to live, ultimately.
Maybe this is why I can't feel close to someone, regardless of what they feel. All I know is my shit. All the other person knows is how shit is supposed to work for everyone. That's why I sometimes see light where others see darkness and darkness where others see light. But that's what makes ME, MYSELF. I'm not good. I'm not bad. I am certain facts like age, sex and occupation. Other than that, I'm not a word. I am a world.
Most people are part of an already established world. That goes for me too. But in addition to being part of the Disneyland of our times, I am also the creator and resident of my world, my Schismarchland. You don't need to enter it to be my friend. You just need to acknowledge its existence. And then, tell me about your world...



Citizen Of The Schismarchland by The Schismarch is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Greece License.