No sign of awareness

Is there anybody out there?

.

I know that every now and again you drop an eye to these words.
I thank you for it.
Let me tell you friend, that I believe that I am doing well.
A spot of loneliness in my thoughts every now and again, but I believe that is to be expected if you live on your own for awhile.

I should not complain much.
After all life has proven a certain worthiness to my existence.
I have experienced different occupations.
I have encountered hundreds of people, it some I was able to engage on interesting conversations that led to remarkable friendships.
Some remained and some are gone.
It is however interesting, that communication is one of the hardest things to do.
The process of communication itself as many nuances and the interference upon perception, at times leads to great distrust.
It is frequent that misconceptions of a given situation lead to arguments.
I sometimes wonder, if we all see reality differently from one another, however since no one can actually be aware of what the other perceives then no one can truly know what the other is seeing.
Take the color of the sky for instance. Suppose for an instance that is blue for me, is actually green for another person. When looking up to the sky, I might see it blue, but the other person will see it green, according to my reference. And vice verse, the trees would be filled with blue leaves according to someone else s reference. Colours perceived different but still identified the same.
What else is perceived differently?
Maybe feelings.
Who knows, the intensity of pain for the loss of a parent can be different from person to person? Who can say that the mere pain of pricking a finger on a needle does not yield different out comes?
If this is the case, how would it be possible to ever make any one understand what we are feeling?

I guess we are all very different people, as such pain and relief come differently to every person. So my emptiness might not actually be as empty as you might experience it. For you it might just be construed as some alone time, that you from you frame of reference might define it as enjoyable.
This accounts for the differences of opinion pretty much about anything. To each its own perception.
But this leaves out similitude. What is the explanation for people that enjoy the same things?
Maybe the enjoyment is independent from the intensity, but is rather a subjective experience, which much like the color is built from the development of taste. A taste that might be predetermined genetically to make me love cheese while you might hate it all together.

Why do I rumble upon these views?
I feel that I am drifting further.
My tastes, my connection with other people is not one of empathy, because most people have transfigured themselves to a new social stage of being.
As have I.
Mine as wondered of into inertia, where others are goal driven, establishing partenerships in according to the similiarty of tastes they possess.
Is anybody there that can share some of my interests?
The same way?

The world calls me.
I will return.

Who watches the watchmen?

Hello world!

These are the two words that some programmers include on their codes when building some kind of software that runs communications.
It is not without a sense of irony that the world is actually listening.
Well, not the world per se. But rather the 'watchmen', those that make intelligence their business.
Alas with all the paranoia that our reptilian brains can produce, it is no wonder that we end up spying each other, because there is no such thing as trust.
In the hearts of everyone there is always a small hint of suspicion, and so we convince ourselves that for the greater good, privacy is no commodity to be handed out but rather something to be purged under the false pretense that we will all be much safer if there are no secrets.
But this is no true, because the 'watchmen' will keep the secrets to themselves under the excuse national security.
Oddly enough, the biggest problem comes from the power which knowledges provides.
And as the adage goes: power corrupts, absolute power, corrupts absolutely.

So to you world, I say hello.
I know that someone, somewhere is reading.
This information is pointless to you the reader.
but it was a vent for me, the spied upon.

Truthfully, I do not really think I am worth the bug.

Emptiness returns

As the greek people is striving to find better ways to reclaim their dignity, Europe seems less concerned about the principles of the union but rather focus on greed and prosperity.
I find it difficult that we can ever hope to reach a higher ground of conscience.
It is frustrating to recon that the world would still be better off without the human spices.
Granted that the cultural, technological and spiritual advancements have been great, but I don't think that the high price justifies.
There was been so much destruction. So many species eradicated by our passage through their path.
What is it all this for?
As a species we cannot find comfort in solidarity, in respect for the other, in acceptance for difference.
We are the monster in disguise in so many races and creeds.

Me.
Well, I am just one more witness that actively participates in the apathy of the observant foe that just lays back and watches the inevitable destruction of it all. And yet I weep in cowardice without lifting a hand to change the course of this river of actions that will ultimately translate in the impending doom of so many more.

Time passes
I remain
I remain as the spirit within the aging vessel that has kept me safe for the past 38 years.
I do little for me, but to keep the status quo of comfort.
I work
I sleep and eat
I indulge myself in the consumption of media products.
I lose abilities. Focus is becoming harder. Reading books is a thing from the past.
Passive tasks overshadow any activity I made consider
TO listen
To watch
To contemplate

I have started running and cycling, in the hopes of regaining some sense of life
some sense of appreciation of whatever remains on the boundaries of my existence.
I wonder if this too shall pass.

A certain melody by Lisa Gerrard called "Of Love Undone" plays in the background, as these words are assembled in this intentional order.
If only I could feel a little bit more alive. Just a little bit more.
Maybe then... I could make a difference.

The Internet wanderers that may lurk through these pages, need not to worry.
These, my ramblings, are nothing more than gatherings of evasive thoughts that found little place to grab on to.
The body. The vessel will go on.
And hopefully the soul will go beyond and carry some seed of change.
There has to be change. For the best, Whatever that means.
I grow tired
and rest I do need.
Thank you for the possibilities.