best speech ever

From The Great Dictator:

I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an emperor. That's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible; Jew, Gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone, and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge as made us cynical; our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men; cries out for universal brotherhood; for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me, I say, do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish. Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you; who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel! Who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men - machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines, you are not cattle, you are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts! You don't hate! Only the unloved hate; the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers! Don't fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the seventeenth chapter of St. Luke, it is written that the kingdom of God is within man, not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people, have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy, let us use that power. Let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfill that promise. They never will! Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world! To do away with national barriers! To do away with greed, with hate and intolerance! Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers, in the name of democracy, let us all unite! Hannah, can you hear me? Wherever you are, look up Hannah! The clouds are lifting! The sun is breaking through! We are coming out of the darkness into the light! We are coming into a new world; a kindlier world, where men will rise above their hate, their greed, and brutality. Look up, Hannah! The soul of man has been given wings and at last he is beginning to fly. He is flying into the rainbow! Into the light of hope, into the future! The glorious future, that belongs to you, to me and to all of us. Look up, Hannah. Look up!

I strongly advice everyone to watch this speech. It is from the 1940 film The Great Dictator. It makes me wonder where all the good actors and script writers have gone off to...

youde shihou wo ye want to discover the un-discoverable

It seems I'm the only active blogger lately. I'm not sure how many people are actually reading what I write, but I find blogging a surprisingly cathartic hobby. I find that I articulate my thoughts more clearly and coherently when I type; contrarily, I am quite unable to locate and phrase the appropriate words while clutching a pencil or pen. It is perplexing. That's probably why my past paper journals have failed miserably. Also, the fact that an internet blog is situated in such a vast forum of public cyberspace (a public yet intimately quarantined space of existence - isolated by its ridiculously vast environment and not by a dominating, opposing force) somehow appeals to me. I can't quite explain why or how the medium of the internet affects my writing, but I just know that it does. Not a very convincing argument I'm sure, but I'm working on it.

But anyway, I've been thinking a lot lately. No, nothing too serious or suicidal (although I guess it is pretty depressing) - but about society and contemporary culture and the weight of my existence upon the former (and perhaps also the latter). And the central inquiry of my idle contemplations is this: What effect does my existence have on the lives of others, whether it be of my friends, relatives, or even people with whom I am not acquainted?

My recent obsession with the Korean figure skater Yuna Kim has caused me to acknowledge my miserably marginalized existence. For I will never know this girl - she is too distant. The barrier between normal folk and celebrities is a torrential gap than cannot be forded in accordance to an individual's physical willpower - numerous social conditions must be met, and these we cannot handily manipulate. It is regrettable, truly and greatly. If I could just have one chance to truly know this distant being, who is currently, to me, nothing more than a tortuously unattainable, wholly desirable entity (a desire wrung from my entire being), it would be an enlightenment far beyond that of any natural form of encounter. For it would symbolize a rendezvous with the unknown, the impenetrable, the unfathomable - a closeup exploration of what cannot be rationalized or sought. But futility rings forth as I attempt to catch the smoke with my bare hands. Leave me with nothing but unsatisfied desires.

Curse my stupidity for perceiving thy vanity as innocence. But it is upon this stupidity I thrive.

김연아, 너를알고싶다.

One love me bredda

I noticed today that small, insignificant things make me unnaturally, unjustifiably happy. Small things keep my life together; additionally, I noticed that becoming more organized academically has proven to be quite beneficial to my thinning hair. And all I did was buy some good cereal and a tube of gaudy toothpaste.

I've been noticing lots of strangeness in my life lately: my habits, predilections, anomalies. For example, the fact that I hiccup after taking sips of carbonated beverages has never seemed strange to me. But people tell me it's quite strange...

Another bad habit: I rarely finish what I start. I hate it, but oh well...

And now, I have to start my film review! Off to work! Have a nice day =D

oh my lord.

My professors are conspiring to murder me with work. This sucks donkey balls. I can't even describe in words how stressed I am. And my printer isn't helping with its incredibly inefficient usage of black ink. A new cartridge lasted 1 week! And each cartridge is 24 ish dollars, oh my fucking goodness.

On the bright side... oh wait, is that the bright side? Because it looks like a shit-gray to me. Fuck my life.

And incredible site: www.fmylife.com

That's about all I have to say lol.

eureka - righteous self sacrifice.

"Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder, 'Why, why, why?' Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand."

Do not revere the man who ponders. For all his scrutiny and brooding yields less rationality than the aggregate erosion of the continents by orbital whiplash - namely, none at all.

Do not denigrate the man who muses. For from his unflagging futility he forcibly extracts the incorporeal, spiritual nourishment of man.

Thus arrives the inquiry: Is it possibly to satisfy simultaneously our physical deprivations and spiritual desires? Is asceticism (denial of bodily cravings) the sole path towards spiritual enlightenment? What constitutes "spiritual enlightenment"? Is it not a relative term?

Furthermore, who is to judge reality from fantasy? Can lies become truth and truth, lies? Questions lead to more questions - a truly vicious circle. Desperately striving for comprehension, we inevitably sink farther into the quicksands of chaos.

Man was blessed with conscience and rationality; but upon realization, it may have been for naught. For cursed be those who understand.

Seriously midnight.

Can't find the words. Fuck.

no fucking time.

I had even less time to do ANYTHING today. So much... work. So I'll leave you with this quote:

"Even Buddha's face you view only three times in one day."

thy countenance

I was so busy today that I wasn't able to write a very long entry. Oh well. Here is a haiku:

Strokes laden with guilt;
Embrace the abrasive edge
Of the hearty brush.

slowly, steadily...

"Even the evanescent brushing of our cuffs is the fateful mark of a previous existence."

Cooking has a strangely cathartic effect. The process of gathering various ingredients and combining them to form a more perfect union of flavors has a bewildering appeal - especially for me. I find the culinary process intriguing - for it is neither a requisite of bodily sustenance, nor is it especially efficient or practically rewarding (considering the amount of time spent in preparation).

But simultaneously, it is common knowledge that cooked, garnished, lathered, spiced, fried, broiled, attended food definitely tastes better. And what is tasteful we return to out of enjoyment - again, this is common knowledge. However, it is worth inquiring: What drives people to cook in the first place? What causes us to return again and again to the kitchen and try our hands at creating wholesome meals from ingredients which, independently, carry scarcely any appeal?

The art of cooking is as peculiar as it is wondrous; ironically, the human tongue, delicate as it may be, samples and apprises even the most bizarre substances. If a particular ingredient doesn't bode well on it's own, we labor endlessly to find its perfect match - its fitting niche. Is it merely a characteristic of humans to find patterns in regard to each individual sense? Or perhaps cooking appeals to the basic human passion for creation?

"Cooking ruins my appetite," she said.

The outcome isn't the appeal. The taste isn't everything. Is there something more?

abstraciones

Opportunity wasted.
The face of a mountain,
Collapses - but the rigid, earthen spine stubbornly lingers;
In absolutely silent protest.

Brilliant, subtle rays of solar luminescence pierce the oppressive canopy.
A burst of vivid clarity -
Fleeting, volatile comprehension.

Conscious, we sink -
Pry apart the horizontally sealed door.
For freedom lies ajar.

Precariously balanced over the gaping threshold, we endure a
Blanched sustenance -
Gut-wrenching fear at the apex
Of potential.

Hanging in the balance - we may create, consume, regain.
Relive, regenerate.

Time after time.

The climax unflinchingly, infallibly
Leads to a downfall.

"Ni gui xing?"

Boring fuck.