(A tribute to an enigmatic mind)
I open my eyes
Nightmare (I am used to it)
I close my eyes, just to open them again
Nightmare (I always see it)
A dream was born.
I pick up a book
Nightmare (Haven't we all seen it?)
I put down the book, just to pick it up again
Nightmare (We are ALL used to it)
A dream blossoms
I hold up my pen
Nightmare (We can do this)
I put down the pen, just to hold it up again
Nightmare (I am sure)
A dream manifests
I walked in bliss
Nightmare (Why are you even doubting?)
I sat down, just to walk again
Nightmare (I am optimistic about this)
A dream is kidnapped
I read the paper
Nightmare (Your pessimism!)
I tore the paper in half,
and I stopped reading
Nightmare (You should stop worrying)
A dream is tortured
I stopped walking
Nightmare (Well)
I stopped writing
Nightmare (A miracle is bound to occur)
I stopped being awake
Nightmare (A miracle...)
A dream is crucified
What is the meaning in all this
Nightmare
Why do we even live in this
Nightmare
Because we know it
That there is no such thing as a miracle.
Perhaps death is too horrible for us, so we settle for a
Nightmare
What a cowardly cling onto this
Nightmare
I laugh at your cowardice.
A never ending
Nightmare
A never ending
Nightmare
Monday, 17 June 2013
Monday, 10 June 2013
A Miserable Little Pile of Secrets
Are human sentiments illusions?
Illusions are phenomena that are perceived differently from what actually happened. But the question is: What actually happened? Can we really ascertain the absolute truth of what happens when we perceive? Scientific realism tells us that the occurrence of physical phenomena is independent of our observation (which, if we are to delve into quantum physics, is doubted as the wavefunction collapses (with an unknown mechanism) upon an observation of the system concerned). Whatever is the correctness of scientific realism, we cannot prove what we cannot perceive. What actually happens is still a mystery.
You see, the problem of sentiments is that you cannot perceive it. Only the person himself knows what he is thinking (I don't really do though). We can only deduce what a person is thinking through his actions, or demeanor, or speech or whatever means you can derive. Language is a denotation, but it is not the story.
Can we really prove anything?
There must be some kind of objectivity behind every deduction or judgment. One would normally consider murder an immoral action. You don't need the justification of utilitarianism or egoism or any other moral theories to see that. It is innate in our minds that certain actions must be deemed immoral. Certain actions, hence, represent some kind of sentiments. Actions, a kind of language, is a means of communicating what you think to others. But of course, miscommunications occur, and that will be the downfall of the denotation system.
We cannot prove anything.
What a depressing statement. Even the most logical of all systems, mathematics, fails to prove its own completeness (Godel). Are we then, only living in an illusion? We cannot ascertain anything absolutely. Even the question of where you really are proves to be the toughest to answer. Are you in the universe? But there maybe a clone of you with exactly the same emotions, living identical lives, having identical thoughts, outside "somewhere" in the universe. Even the thought that you are on the earth, now, is being challenged by quantum mechanics. There is a probability of you being in a distant galaxy, instead of sitting on a chair, listening to this pathetic excuse of rambling.
Why do we carry on living, then, knowing that this is all an illusion? Soon the illusion will end, and we shall face the truth of death. We all perform actions because we know that death is not impending. We still have a long time to live (probably tens, or even hundreds of years, considering the advancement of technology nowadays), and we consider our actions to be short term, and the long term consequence of death seems to be negligible, with such an intangibly far distance from us.
But we will all die.
Why do we preserve our lives, holding onto them like a "dog fawning over a bone"? Death is undesirable, painful, morbid, judging. But inevitable. We must all succumb to this fateful ending. Perhaps we all try to fight against it, trying to deceive it, delay it. But there is no way we can live forever.
And our sentiments, what we carry forward throughout the years, will remain unknown. Our brain cells which once stores the memory of or sentiments will decay into worthless carbon. Emotionless, apathetic.
I Wanna Be the Guy (IWBTG), a ridiculously masochistic game that joins together much of the gaming experiences of the late 20th century console games (in a twisted way), features the following scene from Castlevania (NES):
"Kid: Die monster! You don't belong in this world!
Dracula: It was not by my hand that I was once again given flesh. I was called here by humans who wish to pay me tribute
Kid: Tribute? You steal men's souls! and make them your slaves!
Dracula: Perhaps the same could be said of all religions.
Kid: Your words are as empty as your soul! Mankind ill needs a saviour such as you!
Dracula: What is a man!? A miserable little pile of secrets!"
(One of the reasons why I love classical games)
Perhaps we are really a miserable pile of secrets. So miserable, that we cling on to it so hard. The harder we grasp, the harder we lose, and that is when the secrets will be lost forever, into entropy.
Illusions are phenomena that are perceived differently from what actually happened. But the question is: What actually happened? Can we really ascertain the absolute truth of what happens when we perceive? Scientific realism tells us that the occurrence of physical phenomena is independent of our observation (which, if we are to delve into quantum physics, is doubted as the wavefunction collapses (with an unknown mechanism) upon an observation of the system concerned). Whatever is the correctness of scientific realism, we cannot prove what we cannot perceive. What actually happens is still a mystery.
You see, the problem of sentiments is that you cannot perceive it. Only the person himself knows what he is thinking (I don't really do though). We can only deduce what a person is thinking through his actions, or demeanor, or speech or whatever means you can derive. Language is a denotation, but it is not the story.
Can we really prove anything?
There must be some kind of objectivity behind every deduction or judgment. One would normally consider murder an immoral action. You don't need the justification of utilitarianism or egoism or any other moral theories to see that. It is innate in our minds that certain actions must be deemed immoral. Certain actions, hence, represent some kind of sentiments. Actions, a kind of language, is a means of communicating what you think to others. But of course, miscommunications occur, and that will be the downfall of the denotation system.
We cannot prove anything.
What a depressing statement. Even the most logical of all systems, mathematics, fails to prove its own completeness (Godel). Are we then, only living in an illusion? We cannot ascertain anything absolutely. Even the question of where you really are proves to be the toughest to answer. Are you in the universe? But there maybe a clone of you with exactly the same emotions, living identical lives, having identical thoughts, outside "somewhere" in the universe. Even the thought that you are on the earth, now, is being challenged by quantum mechanics. There is a probability of you being in a distant galaxy, instead of sitting on a chair, listening to this pathetic excuse of rambling.
Why do we carry on living, then, knowing that this is all an illusion? Soon the illusion will end, and we shall face the truth of death. We all perform actions because we know that death is not impending. We still have a long time to live (probably tens, or even hundreds of years, considering the advancement of technology nowadays), and we consider our actions to be short term, and the long term consequence of death seems to be negligible, with such an intangibly far distance from us.
But we will all die.
Why do we preserve our lives, holding onto them like a "dog fawning over a bone"? Death is undesirable, painful, morbid, judging. But inevitable. We must all succumb to this fateful ending. Perhaps we all try to fight against it, trying to deceive it, delay it. But there is no way we can live forever.
And our sentiments, what we carry forward throughout the years, will remain unknown. Our brain cells which once stores the memory of or sentiments will decay into worthless carbon. Emotionless, apathetic.
I Wanna Be the Guy (IWBTG), a ridiculously masochistic game that joins together much of the gaming experiences of the late 20th century console games (in a twisted way), features the following scene from Castlevania (NES):
"Kid: Die monster! You don't belong in this world!
Dracula: It was not by my hand that I was once again given flesh. I was called here by humans who wish to pay me tribute
Kid: Tribute? You steal men's souls! and make them your slaves!
Dracula: Perhaps the same could be said of all religions.
Kid: Your words are as empty as your soul! Mankind ill needs a saviour such as you!
Dracula: What is a man!? A miserable little pile of secrets!"
(One of the reasons why I love classical games)
Perhaps we are really a miserable pile of secrets. So miserable, that we cling on to it so hard. The harder we grasp, the harder we lose, and that is when the secrets will be lost forever, into entropy.
-HCN, 10/6/13
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