Sick of sickness
Another sequence of sickness... Stricken down yet again by another marauding cold. But it has been an interesting time in the last three days. A whole spectrum of emotions, experiences, doubts and expectations.
Despite saying my diary writing in this blog may end I can't help but record this.
Tuesday finished feeling like a Friday, where everything seemed to be finishing.
Wednesday I awoke like Saturday and I threw myself heavily into Chinese study and applying for jobs. Unfortunately I got waylaid by temptation and then by an ink-cartridge on its last legs.
Wednesday was also a climax of sorts in so many ways. Because what could have been seemed like it would be and the dilemmas that created were rather profound. Then suddenly it was obvious that it couldn't be and then there was no problem at all. As my sickness arose my irritation and impatience came too. Thursday I flew into a frenzy when my A-Zone card disappeared when I was about to meet Fiona. 7 applications were ready to be sent so I needed to send them, but I had no bus card to go to Newmarket with. I was always mentally calculating how connecting buses would work if I gave up on my card-search and paid with cash, always thinking that I couldn't neglect to send those applications... Then my card appeared and I was off in an anxious flash.
Pain and Suffering
This morning with the sickness rising into my eyeballs, I watched The Passion of the Christ, an interesting study of pain. As gory as it is said to be, I think most of the people who complained about it have trouble with reality. It is interesting on a personal level, just because I have always had an interest in the human bodies pain threshold. Not that I have much pain, give much pain or experience anything more traumatic than a tractor front end trapping my foot, a 240V electric shock or a bee sting. If I was a person with secret knowledge that I couldn't disclose, could I stand up to torture?
On a theoretical level, I am interested in it too, and the significance on Christ's suffering in the Christian religion. Their symbol the cross is afterall a tool of a tortuous execution. I really want to explore with a Christian how they substantiate the necessity for his sacrifice. Logically I don't think it sticks together well, although admittedly I would struggle to put those doubts into a logical argument.
Three "me"s in the Symphony
I had another night at the orchestra tonight. My stuffed up sinuses prevented me from appreciating it in its full glory. There was a fine young pianist by the name of John Chen who showed his range. And then the night was capped off by Tchaikovsky's 1812 symphony which apparently he hated but has become on of the most iconic pieces of music. While I appreciated those things, my mind was usually locked in distractions and abstractions. I suddenly thought of another trichotomy. That is the three versions of oneself. There is the me I think I am, the me that I am and the me that others take me to be. They are rarely the same and usually all very different. In the past month I have started to observe the differences between what I am and what I think I am. It is quite disturbing frankly. Of course, these are always in flux. The perceptions other people have are different for each person. And their perceptions are based only on a superficial representation of yourself at a few moments in time, so are never likely to approach accuracy.