Nietzsche once wrote that Nihilism (pessimism on steroids) was a means to an end, a 'transitional stage' where a person would disregard societal values in favour of hopelessness and hatred.
Alright, Friedrich. I completely agree. Can I bloody transition now?
Sadly I'm not writing in jest. It's ironic that in my early 20's I seem to have become a parody of Douglas Adams' character Marvin, the Paranoid Android. In itself a parody. If that isn't irony I don't know what is (and if it technically isn't irony it's rather embarrassing because I actually don't fully understand what irony is. It's possible that the idiotic similarities I share with a depressed, fictional robot are simple amusing. But if the English language isn't here to be bastardised then what is it really for? Communication? Don't make me chuckle.)
My point, if you can call it a point, is that it's far too easy to be unhappy in today's world. A world where everything that is worth having requires effort to obtain. Which is rather depressing in its own right.
Once again I've let my mind wander. The purpose of this blog is a discussion (which is native English for 'criticism') of the modern resurgence of self-styled Bodhisattva's (which, when translated from the original sanskrit, means 'pretentious twat' sic.)
A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, has always been what one might call 'spiritual.' Not religious, you understand, for that label requires a certain dedication that this person is lacking. Suffice it to say that this person (nameless and apparently sexless) flits from one belief to another. This has never truly bothered me in the past, for this person... who from now on shall be referred to as 'It' for no other reason than that I find it amusing, has always kept Its misguided opinions to Itself.
However, [Oh yes, dear readers. Prepare for the plot-twist] 'It' has recently took it upon itself to, in Its own words, save my soul. I've never had much to do with souls. After 22 years on this Earth, one of which I have been at least semi-sentient, I believe, if I did indeed have a soul, it would have made itself known by now. I expected some awesome display of spiritual power. Some magnificent example of space-bending prowess. Yet despite all my efforts I have yet to see the spoon as nothing more than a spoon.
This apparently ignorant idea that smelted iron cooled in to a useful shape has no other purpose than aiding in the steeping of tea, or the consumption of yoghurt, has left my friend (I thought the continuation of 'It' was getting rather malicious) with a fear for my immortality. I'm being facetious, obviously, but the diatribes that have recently been pushed my way are starting to become irritating. My friend has decided that he/she was born in to this world to love and enlighten every person they come across. Not a terrible thing to believe, I concede... as long as this all-loving benevolence wasn't directed at me.
This idiocy isn't restricted to my friend either. I have met countless (4) people who have shared similar beliefs. People who found my apparent contempt for said beliefs incredibly shocking. How could a human being not care about others? How could a person not care for their own spiritual well-being?
For me the answer is a simple one; I don't care about anything. An incredibly paradoxical thing to say considering I have taken literally minutes out of my life, such as it is, to write this vociferous article. The statement is exaggerated, obviously, given my track-record in the past for arguing vehemently about the most intricate and pointless sub-plots of the Tolkien Mythos. However, when it comes to things that truly matter, such as the well-being of other human beings I couldn't give a flying fu-
Which is terrible! And I know that now. I truly wish and hope that one day I will be able to shed my nihilistic scales in favour of a beautiful, luminous, benevolent exoskeleton. But until that day when I can finally grow the hell up, I am stuck with utter pessimism and infinite contempt for anything spiritual or altruistic. Come on Nietzsche, I'm being serious; where's my transition?
The problem is, of course, that I know I should be ashamed - but in the morning I shall wake up, have my morning cup of tea and continue in my malignant and nihilistic path of self-destruction completely uncaring of anything and anyone that truly matters.
Apart from Tolkien.