Post Conscious

The numbers are in and it is a hung parliament. So now the sexual word plays and tired out euphemisms can stop, thanks.

It doesn’t take a genius to see how the media have had their dirty fingers so deep in this pie. Since the masses have become bandwagoners and consumers of easy-to-digest media most of which discredited Gordon Brown so much. I’m neither an avid follower of UK politics nor a supporter of Mr. Brown, but my observations have led me to believe much of this election was wrought with the aesthetics of things. If anything it is the statistics of stupidity. Why else would you have people (some, not all) vote for a party which has policies totally juxtaposed to their own beliefs. I can only assume they were affected by the hype which often has no substance. Anyway, if Labour didn’t have Mr. Brown up there, I do think things might have been different.

I’m not workin’ class because I’m not workin’ … to paraphrase something I saw on TV the other night.

Just as well.

Perhaps we have reached a point where the survival of the fittest have transcended the physical. In our race to become the fittest we have hit a glass wall, and through it we see nothingness in the distance. At the finish line, we wonder while we wait for the late finishers to arrive. We are now the fittest, there’s nothing more to do because of this glass wall which has stopped us, but there is something on the other side so the race must go on. We, amongst the finishers, suddenly make our own rules in our interpretation of a phenomena. A phenomena that is the abyss at the other side of the glass wall.

Upon the late finishers’ arrival, they get bombarded with the interpretation of the ones who were there first – the ‘winners’. Even before they get to see the abyss. Some of them will never even see the abyss at all. Lost – in both sense of the word – amidst all that have been said by the winners.

Some winners will tell them it has ceased being a race while they continue on … in their minds.

Suppose you and I realized this and we were amongst the late finishers. We then try very hard to muffle the conversation of the ‘winners’. Making our way through the crowd we stand in front of the glass wall. Suddenly we find ourselves staring into the abyss.

Tell me, what do you see? More importantly, will you tell the others?

This Institute I am currently enroled in has the facade of all that is righteous and truly good. When you walk in its open spaces, you can almost feel like you’re walking in someone’s cliche – the one that says ”meeting people from all walks of life”. I have met people with such cliches or rather they have met me. I think they need to do less meeting and more walking.

There is minimal security needed here, after all this is the place that is the epitome of all that is virtuous, moral and more more more. Right around the  corner, in a square, is a statue of Ghandi. There’s always candles or flowers there. The square is undergoing some re landscaping work – who knows why? Maybe it has something to do with the way in which greatness has to be dressed up in gold. All the nakedness (with no gold) stand in the cold, in admiration of greatness.

The smell in the Institute is great, the aroma of progressive humanity … if hypothetical unicorns had hypothetical armpits, it would hypothetically smell like this. The colors are easy on your eyes, it seems they have made everything in a light tone … light blue, white, light brown. Sometimes, when I walk in, I feel like I am wrapped in cushion. It’s a very comfortable feeling. When I think about it though, who the hell wants to be wrapped in cushion?

Hey now … they are teaching Education here – but how do you teach Education? The answer is simple; just tell them that the past and present need fixing for the future. What kind of fixing? Well for for starters, things need to be liberal and moral – words which smell like unwashed laundry from last month. Then in the phantom equation, you throw in other concepts like children, freedom, values, equality. Occassionally you get to beat your chest and nod your heads in the dissent of racism, intolerance and all that is bad. All in the style of your modern day heroics – captured in the nearest space for a poster advert.

You do not need to worry here. Everything is great and golden.

It is now 17.45 and I am using one of the computers. On my way in, I got stopped by a student running for one of the Union positions. When asked about 24 hour library times, I questioned the resources and other issues concerning this. He responded by first saying he empathized with all my concerns and there’s more – he’s from the Green Party too – he is very concerned. He continued talking under his cigarette breath for the next 5 minutes.

Now I am in the library about to print hundreds of pages worth of reading. We are not allowed to use double sided printing, multi page printing or low quality printing here. It’s okay – aren’t we doing this in the name of Education and all those laundry words?

Yes … we are too great and we are dressed in gold. We are also wrapped in cushion.

The tensions were pretty clear in the classroom. Many were still basking around the glory days of progressivist education … the nature oriented and child-centered ‘freedom’ of education in schools. Liberal education and traditionalist views were introduced today as reactions to progressivism. Everyone gets it that we need to put bullet points in things in life and to tick boxes wherever we can – it gives us a sense of direction and purpose (in the present sense). But many were sympathetic or perhaps attracted to the idea of freedom the progessivist had wanted … so existential … inner looking … with less scientistic rational. So much so that we often forget the repercussions that would mean in a social, political and economic context. Which sucks because, ultimately being and ‘existing’ in our world today is so much reliant on things that are external to us.

This is too big and broad to discuss here. But by bringing this up I wonder if this might have at least tugged and the strings of the universal puppetry.

With relatively exceptional methods of control everything that is thought to be (im)possible is the City of Paragon is mystified, symbolized and canonized for the rest of their lives. It is after all the fear of dreaming of Things That Should Not Be Mentioned namely Dangerous Ambitions. There is a meticulous approach towards a structural encapsulation of young generation into the flawless ideals of Paragonia (sometimes it is called this because it does sound more divine).

Witnesses (now missing) to this organized phenomenological reconfiguration have accounted for the subtle and rigorous methods used by The Society. Yes they do not call themselves by any means that allude to hierarchy. Who would want to remind everyone that Fairy Tales are not true? Not The Society, never them. Thus the name must denote a general consensus bar of any inequality (this by the way is blasphemous!*).

In the city, there is Freedom. This Freedom is sacred. This sacrosanct State of Affairs must persevere says The Society:

“We must make sure that Freedom is widespread. In order for it to permeate all, it must be controlled to ensure it’s equal distribution. Freedom for all.”

Imagine that … Freedom’s freedom is quantified, compartmentalized and distributed.

Welcome to Paragonia. In the City of Paragon people believe.

* Although of course the things that is the most forbidden is always the most widespread.