In This Day and Age

Just then, I came across the above photo set whilst scrolling through Tumblr. And it had me thinking: how different would things have been had we been alive at a different time?

Think of all those people you know who you would not trade for the world or for a box of chocolates even if chocolates became extinct and that was the last ever box in existence. Would you know them in the other era you would be in, too? Would you have others who you would feel exactly the same way about, thus in a way demeaning your current ones? How lucky are you indeed to be in existence aligned with those you currently know? Would you rather exist in a different lifetime and see who else you are capable of ending up knowing? What if you knew historical figures like Julius Caesar or Marie Antoinette? How would Joan of Arc approach a thing like Facebook? Or pizza? Did Joan of Arc really exist in the first place? 

Life has a gist of fluidity in it. In fact, life is entirely fluid. Nothing is for certain and that too means existence is not for certain. What is to say that we did not exist in another lifetime, and the only thing stopping us from knowing this is that our memories from that lifetime were erased? Or perhaps we are repeating the life we live unbeknownst to it all and each time we experience a déjà vu it means we are repeating the same mistakes or advances? It is all mind-bending, but as is what we call 'reality', the now, the then and the tomorrow. What does it truly mean to be real? Do we suffice as real beings? Spend a day staring at your hands and think about this. 

There is a Greek myth, allegedly, that claims that humans were born with two sets of body parts and they were split into two to find their other halves in their lives, but what does a lover practicing polygamy say to that? An extra pair of hands would have been nice. Do we really ever have one lover or are we destined to be burdened by several who just do not seem to understand that one life does not necessarily have room for any strife? Are those who burden us sent to us in order to place us back on the path towards our true second halves? Do our second halves even exist in our lifetimes? What if our second halves existed or will exist at other times? And what if they too struggle to find their half because their half has died searching for them? What if this entire journey mimics that of Benjamin Button's but along a timeline of lifetimes? 

All of these big questions always tend to find their ways to me at early morning hours. They should find me later on in the day so as to ensure that I am proactive towards my approach in seeking answers. Is it necessary to have mornings and nights and to follow the pattern of the sun and when it comes and goes?

On the Annoyance of Blind Spots on Backs

There is nothing in the universe as irate to humans beings as the blind spots on their backs, that very spot that no matter how far they reach, they will never be able to scratch themselves.

The back is the most important part of the human body because it is what we have and cannot see, which strikes a powerful resemblance to distant lovers. And like distant lovers, we need to be very sure that our backs receive the undying attention they deserve from time to time. But we never give it to them, so they begin to itch at us – they start with a small itch, in the lower regions, and you reach it, scratch it and continue with your daily activities. Then, another itch forms on either shoulder, and you are able to reach and rid yourself of that too. You move on throughout your day, not paying attention to what is right behind you.

Then, you begin to itch in the spot just out of reach. It is right there, and despite all your awkward looking efforts, you simply cannot reach it. Now, picture yourself with that itch in a public place whilst you are surrounded by strangers. This literally is a recipe for disaster. Could you attempt to scratch that itch by bending both of your arms backwards at separate times and risk looking awkward? Could you perhaps lean against something mildly sharp, and rock your body up and down subtly to relieve yourself from that itch? Perhaps you could ask a fellow stranger to assist you in ridding yourself of the itch – bonding experiences, after all, could branch out of spontaneous moments like these.

You do none of those things, because they are quite silly. You wait until you are home, and you ask – unless you live alone – a family member to assist you, and they do. In this case, the itch is quite likely to return, this time irritating you a lot more. You ask that same family member again, and slightly hesitating, they again assist you. The third time, they promise themselves, they will not. The third time comes along, and you have the worst itch ever imaginable. You dare not ask that family member, or another. You instead walk to the nearest door, and open it, and place your body upon the post without the hinges that hold the door, and you rock your body up and down, side to side. The blunt edges that this post provides only alleviates the itch for a small while, though it harms not your skin in the process.

Plato had claimed that ‘according to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.’ I believe that Zeus actually split them because one day, they received an unreachable itch. After a not so momentary attempt with their four arms to reach that itch, Zeus saw it fit that he should split them, so that they can scratch their itches with ease.

Sitting on my desk at this moment in time, is my very own purple back-scratching device. For a cheap price of only two Australian dollars, I now own the key to my survival, a simple mechanism that I can use which allows me to liberate myself from the curse of the unreachable back itch, without having to humiliate myself in public or bother family members or spread my dead skin cells on my door posts. My struggles in reaching these annoying back blind spots, per se, have been diminished.

To rid yourself of this utter annoyance and humiliation, I advise you to also purchase one of these wondrous purple mechanisms. They are located on the counters of little shops filled with useless but useful things run by cheery Chinamen. And they are a darn bargain.