Oddly reminds me of a Banksy
The lengths that people will go to...
I was discussing it with a friend the other day, and we were wondering whether Orwell had any inkling as to just how much of an insight he had into the future of humanity. I hate to sound depressing but his book has made me really think. 1984 provides no hope whatsoever for the future of mankind, implying that we evolve to become mindless robots that can be manipulated by a merciless oligarchy.
And the idea of the proles; Orwell depicts them as being totally unaware of being fed lies that they believe to be reality. But if one thinks about it, it’s sort of already occurring in our society today. Well, what I mean is that it’s not difficult to see aspects of it peering through our everyday life. Did you ever think perhaps we are the proles? That we are the ignorant mass that could do something about the way the world is but are just totally naïve to the fact that this is the case?
If what we felt was reality was actually a lie would we prefer to know the truth, regardless of how horrible it may be? Would we take the red or the blue pill?
My friend argued that if the ‘world was really corrupt, damaged and beyond repair’ then she would prefer the lie, and take the blue pill. I on the other hand would have to take the red one. Why live the lie, despite it being the happiest thing you have envisaged (although in 1984 even the lie is pretty bleak), if you know that the truth is out there waiting to be found? My exact words to my friend were:
Maybe it’s ‘cos I’m a theologian, but I’d rather be told the truth, as the truth is the only thing worth knowing.
I said that then, but obviously I cannot say for definite that given the situation that I wouldn’t change my mind. But I still cannot help but fail to see the rationale in living a lie if you have the choice to choose to pursue the truth.
Credit to Andrei Robu for the image.
I won't recall the whole of the article to you, but if you get the chance you should certainly give it the once over. Below are some of my thoughts on what he has said: Really now? They seemed to do a good job convincing the British public that.
I sometimes feel that I’m losing touch with my faith, with what I’ve believed for most of my life. For so long I have strived to return to a time when putting God first was habitual to me, when questioning what I believe was never a question I had to ask, or when I could confidently say that I was happy. But no longer does this place in time exist. Perhaps, given time, it will once again be reachable. I can only hope -and pray- that this is so.
Ever since I can remember I’ve known how to play the piano. I had a lesson here and there at secondary school, but quickly became fed up of playing scales over and over again. I’m not great, but I can perform a piece or two. It may come as a surprise to you but I can’t actually read notes; the same goes for when I play the drums. I think it’s been seven years since I first learnt how to play, and perhaps a year since I’ve played anything, but seat me in front of a piano and my muscle memory will effortlessly guide my fingers across the keys.
What fascinates me is the way our memory works. Is there something within our subconscious that chooses what to remember? If this is the case, why can I remember trivial things such as Angela Lansbury was the teapot in Beauty and the Beast? Or that an oenophile is someone who appreciates wine? And yet, I can’t remember my first day at school - or much of my primary school life for that matter. I even struggle to recall what I ate yesterday…
My mind’s like a box of Trivial Pursuit cards - but with the questions torn off.
I've read that we sometimes forget certain things because old information is replaced by new information. But that still doesn't answer my question. Why would anyone in their right mind choose useless facts over noteworthy memories? Maybe we don't actually get a chance to choose? Maybe our collection of memories are filtered by a Sorting Hat? Or perhaps they were just not that noteworthy after all?
Anyway, I’ve come to three possible conclusions:
1. My mind prefers to remember things that give me a false sense of security and contentment, veiling a set of memories that are too overwhelming to recall
2. I’ve developed dementia in my old age
3. I had a difficult childhood featuring a talking teapot and a lot of wine
I'm thinking the third one is most likely.
Not only is it a good chance to meet new people, gain some skills, and a benefit for my CV, but it's a pretty good reason to get me off my backside and do something constructive.
He may look adorable, but looks can be deceiving...Trust me on this one
The Infinity Pool and the Sibuyan Sea
He can't swim
Stranded at sea
'Yer wanna a piece o' me?'
