life
(English) Free fallin’
(English) 
“Falling is just like flying, except there’s a more permanent destination.”1
I love that quote. Ever since I heard it, it kind of stuck in my head, sloshing around like melted snow. It is true, in its own way – skydivers know that best of all. But it also hints at something more, some deeper meaning. I don’t know whether the author really thought about this being misconstrued as a metaphor for life. But I like to think that he did; he just refused to explore it further, just letting it dangle there, for the world to see.
Oh yes, we think we’re flying. Some higher, some lower, some faster, some slower. Look at us go. Look at us, flapping those arms, going through the motions! Look at those fluffy clouds, man! Ground? What ground? We can see no ground from up here, and anyway, for us, the ground is just some theoretical abstraction that those folks of a philosophical persuasion thought up. Why, they say we’re all going to hit it sooner or later, and it’s “goodbye, flying” from there on.
Other folks say you’ve got to keep light while you’re travelling, ‘cause when you hit that ground, you’re going under! But just keep light and then, well, there’s a chance you’d bounce right back up, all the way to heaven. There’s even folks saying you just hop like a frog, depending on your baggage, and that your purpose in life is to get just the right weight to stop altogether.
As for myself, I know we all are falling. I’m guessing I’m about half way down, give or take a few years. If all goes well, that is, and I don’t hit some Everest. Like an idiot. If I steer free of mountain ranges in general. Who knows, maybe I’ll find me some good old chasm and ride this thing down for all it’s worth. Hey, if I’m really lucky, there might be some zero gravity zone at the end of it.2 But I don’t get my hopes up. All I’m aiming for are some nice barrel rolls along the way.
So. Wasn’t that a waste of a good metaphor? *ahem*. Welcome aboard Air Destiny. Fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the ride.
- This is what Steven Moffat, one of the great screenwriters of our age, tells us in the – quite grand, to be honest – finale of the second series of “Sherlock”, a modern take of Arthur Conan Doyle’s beloved character. [↩]
- That would be what some of you good folks are calling “The Singularity”. Kind of like a Heaven for nerds. [↩]
Dreptul la vot
Dacă vreau să-mi iau permisul de conducere trebuie să trec un test scris, un test practic și un examen medical. În schimb pentru a vota, singura cerință (în afara vârstei) este să fiu în stare să respir.
Serios. Pot să beau sau să fumez ce vreau înainte să mă duc să decid cine o să ne conducă de-acum încolo. Nu interesează pe nimeni. Pot să fiu sărit de pe fix, analfabet sau cu IQ-ul unei verze. Pot să fiu oricine. Dacă Lord Vader s-ar prezenta la secția de votare, ar primi fără probleme un buletin de vot, atâta vreme cât poza din pașaport s-ar potrivi cu masca dumisale. Ba e foarte probabil ca el să fie chiar unul dintre candidați.
Minimul de cunoștințe pe care ar trebui să le ai înainte de a vota ar fi unde este poziționat alesul tău în spectrul politic. Și ca să nu fie speculații: unde spune el că e poziționat. Plus principalele lui idei politice pe trei teme majore, ca de exemplu politica economică, politica socială și politica externă. Cei care votează un candidat al unui partid doar pentru că e o tradiție în familie/trib/vecini ar trebui întorși de la ușă. Cei care votează un candidat doar pentru că le place mutra lui ar trebui dați afară în șuturi. Și le-aș retrage și dreptul de vot.
Și dacă tot suntem la teme electorale: votul electronic. Îl vrem. Și nu ne duceți cu zăhărelul despre problemele de securitate online; dacă majoritatea fondurilor de investiții permit efectuarea de tranzacții în valoare de milioane de dolari pe zi prin intermediul Internetului, ar trebui să fiți în stare să primiți de la noi 1024 de biți o dată la patru-cinci ani. Ați putea rezolva elegant cu ocazia asta și propunerea anterioară: puneți un chestionar online la care trebuie răspuns corect înainte de a putea vota.
Vrem să votăm fără dureri de cap și vrem ca votul să conteze. Poate așa o să ajungem să scoatem cuvântul “politică” de la categoria “invective”.
(English) Violence
(English) 
The violence we do – we’re doing it to ourselves first and foremost. The anger. The rage. The clenched fist. The hissed word, spat out through our teeth, the cynical smile, the piercing sarcasm. The derisive laugh.
Aye, it feels good when we say it. When we’re standing there, blood coursing through our veins, high on adrenalin and spite. We won. I won. You lost – the argument, the fight, the competition – you bowed your head and just gave up. You loser. My anger reigned supreme.
It’s only after we cool down that our conscience kicks in. Regrets that come too late, after all that’s been said and all that’s been done. Some of us – the lucky ones – bow their head in shame, their lesson learned, and suffer through the consequences of their anger. Others are not that lucky.
It’s easy, giving in to a sense of righteousness. A post facto justification of all the things we did. “It wasn’t really that bad”, we say. “The other had it coming anyway”, we say. And pieces of our heart wash away – our good, kind heart, the one our mothers saw in us when we were little – and they’re replaced with cold, dead stone. A little bit more callous every day. A little bit more uncaring. So easy, walking down that road. Becoming just a hollow shell, loose pebbles rattling in from time to time.
I only wish my 16 year old self would not despise the man I have become.
