Manifesto about nothing

Perhaps I write this in English as to using my not-mother tongue will make it sound more like an external point of view of that which I may not be but who I am, more as an obtuse yet objective reflexion of that which circumstance and causality have permeated into that which people call Joel Rojas. "At first it seems all like drama, but after a while you find the fun in it and becomes experience from which one learns." You see, it's easier said than done. I can't say it doesn't all seem fun now, and that it shall seem more in a couple of years, I can't say I don't amuse myself by recalling those silly occurrences which at those distant and not so distant times brought me to tears or to despair or to any other state that let's say I did not enjoy much, yet nowadays appear like comedic examples of self-inducted mortification. Nevertheless, if so, if they really are, how come that simple entertainment sometimes goes elsewhere but that point I just mentioned? By elsewhere of course I mean serious reflexion of what one has done and how to avoid those places which one has not loved at all, but I also mean that seemingly harmless time when one complains and complains and complains and complains and complains about stuff which most certainly can't be undone. Yeah, yeah, some may say it is simple reaffirmation of having made the right decision, but come on, being honest, one loves proving people wrong - even if it means oneself -, one loves saying oneself is right even though it is either clear oneself is right, or regardless of the outcome that decision is stupidly enough yet fairly impossible to change. I might add mortification is present due to dissatisfaction, jealousy, obsessive-compulsive neurosis, apprehension, underconfidence, having nothing better to do, or just plain stupidity. I get it, no one likes to go through the same shit again, especially if the wounds have been deep. However, if those wounds are still open, the problem is not in the events that left them, but in the wounds themselves. If there are only scars, yeap, wield them proudly, talk of them if you might, yet do not make a way of living or a life path out of them, or anything that more than pure mementoes, comes across as fetid proof that boasting is your thing regardless of the validity of such boasting. Scars and wounds - that's a pretty valid allegory if you do not take this analysis very seriously. Clearly I got scars, who doesn't?! Nonetheless, analogies of this sort are taken to the point of such utter seriousness that people take their problems with full solemnity and contemptuous lack of sense of humour that multiply things eightfold. And this is the whole point of writing this, to take that quote I typed before and put it into action, or so it seems. Perhaps this text sounded serious at fist, like drama, but now I can laugh off it, especially because I am laughing - although the one reading now, whether the author of it or someone else, might not be laughing cause there's a chance it's a spurt of the moment sort of joke - while I type it. Also, the music I'm listening does help - Takk..., by Sigur Rós. Well, all this because I sat thinking of nonsense while tying my shoe laces this morning, because tedious people recently tried to weigh their ways in, because the 300th entry in this blog had to be about, well, me - and here I do talk about me without any kind of metafiction that would make someone wonder, 'Hey, did that really happen to him? -, but, basically, all this is because I read that quote in a newspaper article this morning and, yeah, after a while you find the fun in it and you always learn. Well, except when you have stuck a fork under one of your fingernails.

So, this text must be read with an ironic, half-sardonic voice tone to it. This does not mean it shouldn't be taken kind of seriously. Well, it shouldn't. Actually, it is mostly mind-shampooing coming from the author's unexciting morning-early afternoon time at work. However, I like the quote, I do find the fun in stuff that at first seemed like mostly drama, and god gracious do I learn. Still, I ought to keep it mind more closely, and take life a bit more lightly, wholeheartedly lightly.

And, yep, there is always the chance to start over.

I was going to include, 'Why do we fall?', yet it is way too batsy and ridiculous - Rubén will get the joke.

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