The Curious Adventures of Gordan's Thoughts

Huxley instead of Hardy
Tolstoy rather than Tolkien
Why Dickens when we’ve Dostoevsky?
Oi, Kafka! Not Kerouac!
Get more Wilde then chill with the Wordsworth
Bring in Forster and replace Faulkner

…so maybe, just maybe, we could have a generation with jobs instead of “socialist warriors”.

 

#ReviseHowYouTeachLiterature

 

 

MG

Flash fiction

 

“God, grant us world peace,” prayed the old woman.

“God, keep the art alive,” prayed the young man.

“Without chaos, there would be no art. Without art, no peace. Peace exists because of chaos, without chaos an artless world would lack peace,” said God.

 

MG

The crossroad is where you and I first met,
I inched forward whilst you raced on ahead,
Neither of us knew what was in store
But I sought direction and you just wanted… “more”.

Here we meet again,
at this crossroads, my friend;
Me? I never left,
merely needed the rest.
You ran in circles
wrapping up your own mess.
Never have I seen
anyone in such distress,
for usually it is I who causes
the chaos and unrest.

If I am to admit, t’has truly been quite a while
since I’ve had to hide a tear and even feign a smile.
Yet that is what you’ve needed,
so that is what I gave,
then you trampled on our seeds
sent our forest to its grave.

After all this time
I surrender my pride
Your demons are no longer
my battle to fight.
They never really were,
nonetheless I tried
But darling, I’m not your saviour
Just a friend you devoured.

MG

 

 

I looked at old pictures
Of you and of us
Trying to muster an apology
For not being “good enough”
All that came out
Were words of honest truth
“I’m sorry that I was never
Broken enough for you”

For months I kept trying
To go back and apologise
Kept thinking I’d done wrong
That I’d accidentally lied
In retrospect I realize
The only mistake I’d made
Was not spotting your disguise
I thought was “compromise”

You’re so used to being depressed
That you throw away happiness
Every chance you get
You stop to analyse instead of progress
You were noticeably different when we met
A lot less distressed
A lot more perplexed
And a lot more invested

I, too, was trying to process
A great deal of unrest
The turmoils of our youths
Eventually split me from you
I took time to rebuild myself
You, instead, ran to hell
Got comfortable and stayed there
Whining that no one cared

Slowly, I faded out of your life
Drifted effortlessly into mine
One that I had relentlessly created
To include only those who motivate
And silently exclude those who berate
My world invites but does not force
Just come through the door
Don’t break down the walls
You are always more than welcome to stay
But you deliberately choose not to pull your own weight.

 

MG

 

I come from a city where…

Kids can make computer games
But don’t know how to ride a train

Teens can ace quantum physics
But have no clue about budget sheets

College kids can start revolutions
But with love they’ve no solution

Thirty year olds still watch cartoons
But can’t define platoon or harpoon

Forty year olds still live with mommy
But convince themselves they’re free

Fifty year olds try out kick-start companies
That last no more than fifty two weeks

The sheer existence of intelligence
If not balanced is meaningless

This city is filled with educated idiots
Whose lives rely on widgets

MG

She looked at me with insecurity in her eyes, as if pleading for sympathy.

I couldn’t.

Much as I tried to muster up a shred of compassion, she had used up the last ounce left in me. Used it up on some medial triviality that was, if anything,  inconsequential to the matter at hand.

For years, I had done my best to understand the root of the issue. For years, I had given a part of myself to her — my ears, heart, time, energy. I had been sympathetic towards experiences far out of my scope. My arms were always open for embrace, my head was always open to another perspective, but my soul was guarding my heart from digesting more than I could stomach.

Then it happened.

One day, I opened my eyes and realized that she was a living, breathing reminder of everything I had already overcome. She had the demeanor of a human, but the behaviour of what used to be my undefeated demons.

I was at the end of my tether, a tether I didn’t even know existed — perhaps very few people had ever dared reach it. Even fewer lacked the cognizance to know where my line lay.

But she, I suppose, fell into that category of “one of the fewer”.

I confronted her, of course, regarding the levels of disrespect radiating like Venus’ sulfuric acid — she didn’t “mean to”, she just couldn’t “help it”. Apparently it was my fault for letting her speak in that manner, for not defending myself.

Well my apologies for choosing to rise above the need to be unnecessarily defensive.

I took her advice, nonetheless, to prove a point. I “defended myself” by not taking blame for other people’s transgressions. This was, incidentally, viewed as “interrupting” and “not letting the other person finish speaking.” (Rambling, honestly).

Well my apologies for having self-respect and guiding a conversation instead of enabling validation. 

My tether.

How did I even let it go on so long?

Simple.

I’ve been there before.

I’ve been in her shoes before. Those juvenile, self-centered, self-indulged, narcissistic, insecure, egotistic, defensive, over-analytical, paranoid, anxious shoes.

I’ve worn something like that.

Many moons ago, but in those shoes I’ve tread those paths — climbed the mountains and rolled down cliffs, drowned in lakes and washed up on shore, broken my bones and worn them casts.

But I am not there now. Nor do I want to go back to any of it.

So when I say that I am out of sympathy, it is not selfish or uncaring. It is not callous or heartless.

It is that I will no longer allow anyone to twist something beautiful into their distorted versions of reality. I cannot fill the voids she won’t admit exist, and will not validate insecurities that are hers — not mine — to fight.

My darling, if you ever read this, I’m sorry that I’d ever let you mistake my kindness for weakness, but I’m walking away because of the strength I’ve mustered up after recovering from this battle. I can’t let you interpret my words to your advantage simply to justify the mistakes of mine you continuously repeat instead of move past. I cannot keep being the buoy you cling to when you get stranded at sea, repeatedly. It’s time for you to pull your own weight — I’ve left you with enough care packages and tools to sift through, but it’s up to you to figure out how to use them. 

You’re on your own, darling, but in a way that you need right now. 

I’ll see you on the other side.
Hope you make it out alive.

Signed with the kind of love you’ve yet to understand, 


MG

After years of exploring the Black Hole, I returned to humanity.

I tried to speak of this experience with humans, but not everyone was as open-minded. Of course, there were some who took an interest and enjoyed hearing of my travel journeys. Those were able to live vicariously through my shared experience.  But then there were the sceptics, the ones who thought I was speaking gibberish and manipulating people for the sake of attention.

I wasn’t, but I can understand why they’d felt that way. After the Black Hole, I actually understood much of what I didn’t even realize I had yet to know.

See, though the Black Hole was filled with a great deal of what people call “nothingness”, it was only in the surrender of ego did I finally see everything within the nothing.

In becoming so detached and removed from humanity, I finally grasped the essential elements that drive them in such a manner.

My distance showed me that humans are simple creatures with complex insecurities. Simple in that they are hedonistic, utilitarian, narcissistic, and competitive. They capable of anger but also joy, strength as well as weakness. They love as deeply as they hate, they rest as much as they work. Humans are simple in that they are multifaceted beings striving to become one.

But humans are also complex in that they often have displaced emotions. They project  insecurities in inappropriate manners at the wrong moment due to egocentric defense mechanisms. They are far more often controlled by ego rather than truth. Driven by image over honesty. Humans portray weaknesses as strengths and are offended when shown the same image from another angle.

Returning to humanity, I had to uproot examples within the human world in order to portray a realization to which I came within the Black Hole.

It is that one simple way to test the complexity of a human ego is to take one out of its comfort zone and see how it responds to change. See, the ego, combined with personal experience, is what determines how adaptable a person can be.

Prominent examples can be seen in the following areas within today’s humanity: racist arrogance (feels uncomfortable around people of different color), xenophobia (inability to communicate with those who speak other languages), gender bias (expects to be served by the opposite gender), religious intolerance (quick to disagree with any terminology pertaining to other beliefs), ageism (judgemental of people from other generations).

Having been hiding in the Black Hole for so long, I’d become so outdated as to what had been going on in the physical world. Much as I had obtained a theoretical understanding of the human ego before my journey’d commenced, it was not until I became void of my own did I see clearly the prominence of it within humanity.

…And with that newfound knowledge, as promised, I shared it with the world.

Not for the fame, not for the glory, but simply because I was curious and am now excited about the discovery.


Sincerely hope that you have enjoyed the adventure written in these three parts. It has been a delight journeying with you.

May you, too, reach a sense of enlightenment, acceptance, understanding, and peace from within. May you learn to exist on your own without relying on the ego.

I wish you all well. Thank you for reading. 

 

MG

 

 

 

First read Part One (Click for link)

I kept that promise — except… I did it metaphorically. No, I did not join NASA and fly to the physical Black Hole on which Einstein and Hawking both have astounding theories. Nay, I traveled to a metaphorical Black Hole and was sucked into a world that I never would have thought existed. A parallel universe on earth, so to speak, where time-zones collided with human measurements of time. Where humans behaved much like the depictions of demons I had read about in literature. Where all that I knew of the world had crumbled into a pile of what I now realize was a childish idealisation of humanity.

I went to the Black Hole — if anything, simply because I was curious. At that age, it was never about the glory or fame. It was never about the money or the risk. It was about the innocent curiosity of wanting to know what lay ahead.

Of discovering a secret that the world hadn’t.

Yes, it was an egocentric drive, but one with a positive outlet that drove me to do crazy, unheard of things that I can now understand experientially rather than limited to vocabulary. It was the push I’d needed at the time, incidentally, the one that pulled me so far away from my ego and into a universe without a self.

In this universe, my shell was invisible; the egocentric shell, the human cloak which I wear to shield myself from vermin, was not brought into this place.

It was disconcerting. I felt disoriented and “not my-self” because essentially, I was not my “self”, I was just… me. I floated around the universe as an unnoticed observer who tried to make its presence known by way of habitual behaviour derived from the egotistic persona. None of my actions were familiar, and yet they did not feel wrong at the same time.

I felt myself changing in this universe. Am I growing or am I stagnating? Am I moving forwards in the wrong direction or walking backwards in the right one? Am I floating or am I flying? Am I drifting or am I surrendering my power? Am I strong or am I weak?

These questions I’d pondered left-right-and-centre until years later, I reached a final conclusion.

Do those answers actually matter, or am I just distracting myself from escaping this void I’d been so curious to explore?

It was right at that moment a pathway magically appeared. A dark spot had appeared in the Black Hole (which was filled with a surprising amount of light, so much that you couldn’t actually see anything. You know that feeling of total darkness? Well imagine total brightness, it ain’t that pretty either.) But that darkness meant a way out, a way back into humanity.

A way back to me

The answer to the question was actually quite simple: the answer doesn’t matter. It’s what you do with the knowledge that counts.

Though anyone could’ve told me that in a second, the pathway only appeared because I had reached something they call acceptance. I had to accept simplicity and deny mediocrity.

After years of exploring the Black Hole, I returned to humanity.

I tried to speak of this experience with others, but…

 

Stay posted for Part III

 

MG

It’s hard to just “be you”
When you have an above average IQ
And an array of unexplored worldviews.
MG

We all have thoughts, we just think about different things. We all have ideas, we just want to achieve different results. We all have routines, we just want to be comfortable in the world we create for ourselves.

But there are thoughts I have and don’t verbally express because writing is my language and speaking is just a habit.

These are thoughts many people call “reactions”. In my head, I can think of countless sarcastic or logical comebacks that could easily put people in their places, but when the moments strike and conflict arises, I have learned to take the path of least resistance. Yes, it is true that once upon a younger year I was a more aggressive, more impulsive, and more abrasive version of me.

Much like any human who has ever come to terms with human nature, I, too, have had a fair share of mishaps. I have been narcissistic, arrogant, prideful, greedy, selfish, dishonest, undisciplined. I have been unnecessarily aggressive with those I’ve valued, undeniably obsessive over my own ego. I have been to many places that most people still avoid, and I have seen things most people would call fiction.

This was part of my journey, my past. It is an area of self that has taken a long time to let go of — as do most issues pertaining to the human ego.

I have been down a path most people (statistically as well as knowledgeably speaking) don’t return from, but here I am to tell the tale. Now, sitting here writing this, I am brought back to a statement I made at the age of nine, when I once dreamed of becoming an astronaut. I told people “When I become an astronaut, I will make it my mission to go down the Black Hole and make sure that I come back and tell the world of what’s really there.”

I kept that promise — except…

 

Stay posted for Part II

 

MG

Personal true story (5-minute read)

“Oh my god, did you read about the winner-chill on the innernet?” one of the girls shrieked. “It’s like the biggest one of the error. Apparently the chill is even hitting eye-rack this year!”

Winner-chill? Innernet? I felt like they were speaking another language.

What was a winner-chill? Honestly, I thought it was when someone wins a victory and then gets to chill afterwards.

And innernet, as if there was an unconscious net on the inside of us, catching our thoughts and dreams.

Biggest of the error…eye-rack…alright, they’d lost me there. Lost as I felt, I kept listening to the conversation, hoping to pick up more clues as to what they were on about.

After about ten minutes of back and forth, I finally understood they were speaking about the cold spell that they’d read about online. It was one of the coldest of the century; even some generally hot countries in the Middle East were having an unusual temperature shock!

Winner-chill… winter chill. Right.

Innernet… internet. Oh goodness, I had a lot to learn.

Error was apparently “era”, and an eye-rack was not, in fact, a rack where people placed their eyes. It was a country, Iraq.

I felt so dumb.

For me, the English I’d learned was either through reading or watching legitimate news channels. You know, those channels where people sound “pretentious” just because they communicate to be understood. They don’t speak just for the sake of expression, rather their words have meaning.

In this situation, the language my schoolmates spoke was known as “common tongue”, a form of syntax and pronunciation that met the bare minimum requirement for English verbal communication.

At the time, I had not yet been educated in the use of this language, having come from a background where the English I’d learned at school was a watered-down version taught by teachers who’d studied it as a second (or even third) language.

At home, I came from a family of high-achieving academics who refused to “dumb-down” their vocabulary. I had no choice but to raise my standards lest I be sorely misunderstood by those in my physical vicinity.

At that age, my written expression had far outpaced my verbal ability to articulate. I would write about advanced phenomena that my conscious mind didn’t even comprehend, yet my mouth could not accurately convey what I knew I wanted to say.

Finally, by the age of twenty-five, a linguistically-gifted friend observed an interesting occurrence within my syntax: all my life, I had been speaking “translated English”. Every word I wrote mirrored the language used in textbooks translated from European languages, and those I spoke actually made more sense when reworded in another language.

It had taken me twenty-five years to realize why I’d spent my life misunderstood and displaced…

Language is like art, or music. Just because the creator (or speaker) knows the meaning behind what is portrayed does not necessarily mean that those on the receiving end can digest it.

You might like your drawing, or your symphony, but to someone else, that drawing might be a scribble; that symphony may be a cacophony.

Why limit ourselves to expression when we can work towards communication? If we are misunderstood, chances are, we’re using a different language.

Dialogue goes both ways, not just one speaking a “foreign language” and expecting to be taken seriously.

Learn more languages (or improve your English), you’ll find better ways to be understood.

Peace,
MG

%d bloggers like this: