I am sorry

As all of my followers will know I just wrote a horrible, scathing blog post about a few teachers and some unearthly force compelled me to post it. God, what was I thinking? There are so many things in the world that I can understand, that I can think forward to. But there is just something about math teachers that just gets to me. It took a stern, eye contact filled, talk with my mum for me to figure out how horrible I’ve been. God, here I am listening to disney songs and trying to figure out a way to redeem myself. This is probably one of those moments in life that it would be best to laugh at myself and bang my head against a wall.
For all who have not read the blog post I am seriously considering living out the rest of my life under my bed because of it said some pretty pretentious and down right offensive stuff which I had no right to say. Instead of going over that in gut wrenching detail I would like to think more about… the idea I just had, but now eludes me. Damn. Oh, no, its back.
Safety, tolerance, achievement and respect.
These are my school’s values and perhaps the reason I was resentful enough to write that awful blog post. Safety is probably the only one I don’t find myself passionately disagreeing with. My school is mostly focused on respect part, but not the respect that we would think. What my school labels as respect is something twisted and gruesome and used as a weapon against students. Respect for my school is just another form of persuasion, just another form of control. What it really is, is the obedience to the line of authority. It is the unlimited demand for silence in the court. My school repeats the word ‘respect’ like a satanist ritual performed in some dark cellar by tall people in dark robes pretending to be ethereal. Every monday the whole of the student body and all of the teachers convene in one of the quads to be informed upon the continuation of the week and how badly we behaved in the previous one. During this half hour ceremony there is often at least one moment where ‘respect’ is stuffed twice into every sentence like too much seasoning.
Respect is held up like a shield to the student body. A large steel plate with the word ‘RESPECT’ printed on it in large, bold, red letters. But its not really respect is it? Respect isn’t not questioning authority. Respect isn’t soundlessly doing as your told like flack sheep. I was taught that respect is what you give every human, not just those with a shield.
As a slightly volatile human resentment is easy, it’s even deserved, but what I said in the blog post previous to this one was not kind. It was cruel and vicious and simply the ending of the fact that no matter how much my school tells me about this faux respect I still don’t get any in return. And I believe that that is a truly sad thing.
For me, these people, these people behind the shield, are my ‘they’. ‘They’ are the people pop stars write songs about and people my age make speeches about like preachers at a sermon. I have learnt that ‘they’ are not people. ‘They’ aren’t humans like you or me. ‘They’ are simply the representations of all that is bad in the world. Its not the person that goes home and wonders whether they’re bad at their job when they go to sleep at night, or the people that work to feed their families and pay their mortgages. They are simply the ideas that we tell ourselves exist only to make our lives harder.
‘They’ are the way that we give ourselves villains without having to actually go through the hassle of naming names and wondering whether we should show them some respect even if they don’t know to show any to us.

Just ideas

The human race likes to bleat like blind sheep in a field with no greater view of the world other than the occasionally passing train about evil. And about good. And about the great opposites that contradict and define the world we try as hard as we possibly can to accept.

I believe that the human race has been looking for simplicity, for the edges of justice and crime, and light and dark to be marked clearly since we first decided that maybe there was more to everything than food and shelter. Even though we have progressed more than any other species on the planet we are still somewhat reluctant to admit that really 99% of the world and its inhabitance is just a big, uncharted blob of various shades of grey. We know nothing for certain, there is no statement concerning right and wrong that cant be contradicted by circumstance. Things like ethics and morals are the things that constantly render us blind, they reduce our complex imaginations to simple statements that we believe to be true because we are to lazy to think of all the reasons why they aren’t. When I was in year seven we did a book study on “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” and it was easy. It was simple. Lion, good. Witch, bad. Edmund, misguided. And it was exactly what it was needed for the story. The lines were set, firm and unbreakable. The complications of this universal chess game between light and dark and our natural indecisiveness were wiped clean, leaving only this world of snow and sun and simplicity. And I thought it was humble, this unearthly simplicity.

Good and evil, the type of good and evil that we shove into fairytales in hope that one day we will shape ourselves in their image, they are really just two concepts we made up. They don’t exist, not really. Imaginary evil is romantic, its insistent and passionate and makes the villain we all secretly wish to have in our lives, just to give us something to do. Imaginary good is dull, its cut and dry and it is more predicable than playing poker with a three year old. Real evil is painful and disgusting and it makes you want to throw up in your mouth and make a mad dash for the door. Real evil sneers in your face and tell you exactly what you don’t want to hear. Real good, on the other hand, is intoxicating and brutal, because sometimes you can’t tell the difference. Real good makes your head swell and dance with pleasantness, but the unfortunate truth with that is that you only feel that if you know its there. The painful and wonderful truth is that the lines are blurred. There are no demons and there are no angels. We, as people, don’t need any otherworldly help to commit great acts of evil or kindness. We are capable of doing that all on our own.