11.07.2005 Flinders Hotel Monday
It's a normal day, the second day taking pills for my sore throat. The time was around 1930, I was eating, saw on TV the angry, agitated face of someone, almost shouting that some criminal (of holocaust) should meet his punishment even though he's already like 80 years old or something. My first reaction was "bloody hell, this guy knows not how to forgive people", but later (don't know for how long psychologically) I realized that I liked him because he was true to himself, an angry man, and not just dictating false doctrines like many people do, like me.
Later on the news I saw an Ozzie girl who was working in London and that day she was late for work for like 5 minutes which saved her life ad she was grateful for it and will not surrender to the will of the bombers. The camera then turned to an Islam section in London and I saw the owner of a tea house saying that it was crazy to bomb people like that.
Later the scene of the Outreach crew helping homeless people appeared on the screen.
During the whole time I felt completely different (not that I was touched or sadden or something), spiritual shall we put it this way, for it was not intellectual because now at the moment of writing and typing it I'm unable to recall what it was, all I know is that it was something so special. The only thing I remember during this "period" is that everyone is a goodman even if he tries to commit hedious crimes. To be honest with you, now thinking about this I can't really agree with that because right now there are some guys out there in front of my room that sounds like they're going to make some troubles or something and I just want to be invisible and have nothing to do with them. Now the thought was really mine?
I wondered whether the Outreach guys feel the way I did or the way I do.
I thought about the possible quarrel with my father about human thoughts, he would say that they're wrong (the terrorists) and I would argue that everyone has his own ideas and the conversation would be devoured by the flame in the end.
I was thinking would it be paradoxical to write this down because the fact that I don't remember how to explain/remember how I felt was probably designed to be so and my trying to write it down is actually against its will?
While I was writing this I tried to be grammatically correct, but then I realised that it was not important at all. This was the first writing since I started the trip in the 30th of June.
APPENDIX
Now that I've finished writing I feel back to myself, emotions, desires, money, coldness, sore throat, TV sounds, terror in London, long road ahead, it's me again.
I have this theory that the bombing was no coincidence and that there were bombs also in New York, Moscow and Madrid, ready to explode according to the final decision. Maybe it's not only me that has this theory. Doesn't matter, really, I feel so when I'm writing this. I remember how sad I was when I heard about the news, my eyes turned red and tissue papers into the bin, but now I don't feel anything and it's not that becasue I'm already numb.
In and out.
I know you might not understand this or understand it the other way around, doesn't matter, perhaps I will not either months later. Probably I should note down which was me and which might not, but I don't know. I might present this in a discussion with someone on similar issues (terrorism, war, crime, etc.) if I show an apathetic like attitude. Apathy, man's greatest enemy, I still think so.
-----
It's a normal day, the second day taking pills for my sore throat. The time was around 1930, I was eating, saw on TV the angry, agitated face of someone, almost shouting that some criminal (of holocaust) should meet his punishment even though he's already like 80 years old or something. My first reaction was "bloody hell, this guy knows not how to forgive people", but later (don't know for how long psychologically) I realized that I liked him because he was true to himself, an angry man, and not just dictating false doctrines like many people do, like me.
Later on the news I saw an Ozzie girl who was working in London and that day she was late for work for like 5 minutes which saved her life ad she was grateful for it and will not surrender to the will of the bombers. The camera then turned to an Islam section in London and I saw the owner of a tea house saying that it was crazy to bomb people like that.
Later the scene of the Outreach crew helping homeless people appeared on the screen.
During the whole time I felt completely different (not that I was touched or sadden or something), spiritual shall we put it this way, for it was not intellectual because now at the moment of writing and typing it I'm unable to recall what it was, all I know is that it was something so special. The only thing I remember during this "period" is that everyone is a goodman even if he tries to commit hedious crimes. To be honest with you, now thinking about this I can't really agree with that because right now there are some guys out there in front of my room that sounds like they're going to make some troubles or something and I just want to be invisible and have nothing to do with them. Now the thought was really mine?
I wondered whether the Outreach guys feel the way I did or the way I do.
I thought about the possible quarrel with my father about human thoughts, he would say that they're wrong (the terrorists) and I would argue that everyone has his own ideas and the conversation would be devoured by the flame in the end.
I was thinking would it be paradoxical to write this down because the fact that I don't remember how to explain/remember how I felt was probably designed to be so and my trying to write it down is actually against its will?
While I was writing this I tried to be grammatically correct, but then I realised that it was not important at all. This was the first writing since I started the trip in the 30th of June.
APPENDIX
Now that I've finished writing I feel back to myself, emotions, desires, money, coldness, sore throat, TV sounds, terror in London, long road ahead, it's me again.
I have this theory that the bombing was no coincidence and that there were bombs also in New York, Moscow and Madrid, ready to explode according to the final decision. Maybe it's not only me that has this theory. Doesn't matter, really, I feel so when I'm writing this. I remember how sad I was when I heard about the news, my eyes turned red and tissue papers into the bin, but now I don't feel anything and it's not that becasue I'm already numb.
In and out.
I know you might not understand this or understand it the other way around, doesn't matter, perhaps I will not either months later. Probably I should note down which was me and which might not, but I don't know. I might present this in a discussion with someone on similar issues (terrorism, war, crime, etc.) if I show an apathetic like attitude. Apathy, man's greatest enemy, I still think so.
-----
Surprisingly how I felt that way because I don't, and I find no explanation to that feeling or its source.
-----
You might feel strongly the opposite. Now on TV I see the survivor's face and I just don't feel a thing, maybe it's not me. Which one would I prefer then?
-----
Suicidal. Does that mean I don't care about my life anymore? I fear that I have no more wanting to continue my journey, life must go on, can't let families feel sad. I'm afraid of myself.
I feel sad and vulnerable. And I am.
You might feel strongly the opposite. Now on TV I see the survivor's face and I just don't feel a thing, maybe it's not me. Which one would I prefer then?
-----
Suicidal. Does that mean I don't care about my life anymore? I fear that I have no more wanting to continue my journey, life must go on, can't let families feel sad. I'm afraid of myself.
I feel sad and vulnerable. And I am.
-----
In Iceland I met a Slovenian girl who was an architect, she disagreed with my opinion about you learn from what you read. She was more prone to feeling and experiencing. Probably she was not wrong.
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