POLLTIME. Because if I code any more, I WILL EXPLODE. Plus I work tomorrow, and polls always make work better. SOMEHOW.
( huge writing poll! )
( huge writing poll! )
May. 6th, 2009
Worktimes, realtimes, strangetimes
May. 6th, 2009 10:02 pmStrange thought blurb expose times! :D In lieu of fic, because my brain works funny when adjusting to new schedules.
Just came back from work a few hours ago; days go by a lot faster when you've got sleep on your side. But then a thought floated by: why do days at work crawl so much more than days at school did for me?
( Ergo the theory that there obviously needs to be things to be destroyed before anything is interesting )
Learning is huge. It's putting yourself up against the ruler of the brightest minds and seeing how you measure up. It scares the shit out of me: it makes me fight for every idea I don't understand, for every concept that could be more, for something that pushes through the huge bulk of an entire race's collective inquiry, the one thing that allows us the lives we lead. To learn that is to fight for your life, tearing screaming and yelling through the blackness of confusion and to come out the other side better equipped and glad to be alive.
Work isn't the same. Work isn't harder. Work's more tiring, because I don't love it at the moment; I know, in the way that I guess we all know at the bottom of our hearts, that this job isn't in the field that I'd be glad to fall in battle in, wielding Blackberries and a 12-hour day as armour. There's nothing to fight in a "job": nothing but boredom and the thought of the end of the day. No obstacle to tear down en route to something greater, no end goal to surge towards with the intensity of rightness that makes what the greatest and worst men and women of the real and fictional worlds what they were. Which is the stuff that inspires, at the end of the day. How did Schindler save those lives? How were orders given to drop the Plate on a seventh of the city of Midgar? Did Julius Caesar sleep well at night? Or did Marc Antony, before Shakespeare woke from his dream to write the one of the greatest rhetoric speeches in the English language? How many hours did Lucifer spend planning his fall? What went on in the heads of the men writing God? Would Bruce Wayne have had any sense of justice as a policeman?
So I'll always keep looking for the next human being, the next book, the next fic, the next game, the next line, the next song, that makes me feel truly stupid inside. Since -- To burn through and gouge out the logic of the past, or to rebuild and rip up the sky of the future. There's some worth in doing that while a human is alive.
(To this song! Daft Punk - Harder Better Faster Stronger
Work it harder make it better
do it faster makes us stronger
more than ever hour after
our work is never over)
AND THAT IS ALL OF YOUR STRANGE AND THOUGHTFUL K FOR THE WEEK. Coming next post: fic once more! With hope. And some effort.
Just came back from work a few hours ago; days go by a lot faster when you've got sleep on your side. But then a thought floated by: why do days at work crawl so much more than days at school did for me?
( Ergo the theory that there obviously needs to be things to be destroyed before anything is interesting )
Learning is huge. It's putting yourself up against the ruler of the brightest minds and seeing how you measure up. It scares the shit out of me: it makes me fight for every idea I don't understand, for every concept that could be more, for something that pushes through the huge bulk of an entire race's collective inquiry, the one thing that allows us the lives we lead. To learn that is to fight for your life, tearing screaming and yelling through the blackness of confusion and to come out the other side better equipped and glad to be alive.
Work isn't the same. Work isn't harder. Work's more tiring, because I don't love it at the moment; I know, in the way that I guess we all know at the bottom of our hearts, that this job isn't in the field that I'd be glad to fall in battle in, wielding Blackberries and a 12-hour day as armour. There's nothing to fight in a "job": nothing but boredom and the thought of the end of the day. No obstacle to tear down en route to something greater, no end goal to surge towards with the intensity of rightness that makes what the greatest and worst men and women of the real and fictional worlds what they were. Which is the stuff that inspires, at the end of the day. How did Schindler save those lives? How were orders given to drop the Plate on a seventh of the city of Midgar? Did Julius Caesar sleep well at night? Or did Marc Antony, before Shakespeare woke from his dream to write the one of the greatest rhetoric speeches in the English language? How many hours did Lucifer spend planning his fall? What went on in the heads of the men writing God? Would Bruce Wayne have had any sense of justice as a policeman?
So I'll always keep looking for the next human being, the next book, the next fic, the next game, the next line, the next song, that makes me feel truly stupid inside. Since -- To burn through and gouge out the logic of the past, or to rebuild and rip up the sky of the future. There's some worth in doing that while a human is alive.
(To this song! Daft Punk - Harder Better Faster Stronger
Work it harder make it better
do it faster makes us stronger
more than ever hour after
our work is never over)
AND THAT IS ALL OF YOUR STRANGE AND THOUGHTFUL K FOR THE WEEK. Coming next post: fic once more! With hope. And some effort.