Philosophy and other shenanigans

"This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You wash your hands using the blue soap - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You wash with the red soap - you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes."

-- Morpheus, from The Matrix, unreleased Editor's Cut

While visiting Bangkok last month, I managed to find my way to some sort of zoo/tourist trap where I saw tigers, alligators, and elephants playing soccer. As pleasing as all that was, the most interesting bit came from the men's washroom, where I found this dual soap dispenser. It seems the Wachowski brothers became theatrically inspired while on vacation in Bangkok, soaking up all the fun that elephants and soccer balls and little brown people prodding the poor things with sharp metal hooks have to offer.

It also seems that there are quite a few Thais in Wonderland. And who says you need recreational drugs and prostitutes to have a good time in the Place of Olives?

On the subject of matrices...

The common mortal... is not capable, at least not continuously so, of observation that in every sense is wholly disinterested.... He can turn his attention to things only so far as they have some relation to his will, however indirect it may be. [The] ordinary man does not linger long over perception, does not fix his attention long on one object, but in all that is presented to him hastily seeks merely the concept under which it is to be brought, as the lazy man seeks a chair, and then it interests him no further. That is why he is so soon done, with works of art, objects of natural beauty, and indeed everywhere with the truly significant contemplation of all the scenes of life.

--Schopenhauer

Why are we satisfied with rules, formulas, concepts? Why don't we... why don't I!... wonder about what is beyond our senses, our perception, our logic? For some, there is enough safety in knowing that there is a Creator. He is the rule and the exception, and the origin. For others, a big bang. Okay, so we don't know exactly where we come from. But how about where we are? What is our reality? Are we in it? Is my reality someone else's reality? Can two beings share the same reality? What is sleep vs. awake? What is a dream? Where is a dream?

What if reality is the following: a dream, dreamt by one person. We are all in that person's dream, but we also are dreaming. In our dream, we fall asleep, wake up, and have dreams.
Is The Matrix just a movie? It's an idea, which is all we can grasp of it. The idea of a reality outside of the one we know. More than just chop-socky satire, anyway.

Reflections...

In my seventh-grade science class, one of our projects was to design an ingenious container to hold an egg and prevent it from breaking after being dropped from a height of about 15 feet. The most creative kids encased their eggs in containers of Jello or peanut butter. Me? I wrapped my egg in so many layers of cardboard, foam peanuts, foam padding, and tape that it could have survived a trip around the world, including a stopover in Iraq, and a plane crash. But it wasn't creative. I saw the look on my teacher's face as she watched me spend at least 5 minutes cutting open my monstrosity with dull scissors, and producing my egg, still in tact and without a scratch. Her look made me feel like I would have been better off if it had broken. Some feelings of rejection and failure, no matter how insignificant at the time, stick with you for life.

I had a green parakeet named Ernie. I loved him more than I could remember. What I do remember is how I tried to spoil him. With watered down apple juice as a treat instead of plain water (not sure if he ever went for that). Fresh lettuce leaves and apple slices for snacking. New newspaper lining his cage, at least a few times a week. And I remember one day, he couldn't sit on his perch anymore, but instead hobbled about on the floor of his cage. Each time he tried to fly or climb up to his perch, he would fall off. That evening, my mom put Ernie and his cage in the garage. I remember it was a cold night, too cold for a sick bird at least. The next day, I buried him in our front garden. I had made an "awning" out of a shoe box lid and some straws to cover him when it rained. The neighborhood kids, who never liked me but liked to make fun of me, came over to our yard and stood over me, laughing, as I tried to make my awning stay upright over his grave.

My brother and I were latch-key kids. We had keys to the front door of our house, and almost always came home from school before our parents. I remember, on one occasion, he and I got home at the same time but he had forgotten his key. I had mine, but wouldn't open the door until I had made him get down on his hands and knees and lick the dirt. Sorry, bro.

Children know not their cruelty.

In movies, we see ill-fated lovers parting ways at the train station. Each gazing upon the other's face; within a matter of seconds the distance between them turns infinite. They continue looking, well past the range of sight, as if to imagine they could still see each other, like specks on the horizon. One on the train. The other, standing alone on the station platform. I consider myself lucky to have experienced this once, as the one staring out the window as the train pulled away. Like in the movies, you really do put the palm of your hand on the window, as if to reach out to her, that feeble, impossible gesture... just one last touch of her hand. How many times in life can you say you've been there, done that? Humphrey and Ingrid managed it much more gracefully than I did; my tears came from an endless reservoir. First on the train. Then the plane. The bus home. The next day. And the days that followed. How lucky I am to be haunted by the memory of a broken heart.

Here's looking at you, kid.

From a university philosophy class, two things I might someday forget:
1. Descarte's Meditations
2. Plato's Allegory of the Cave

From the same class, something my professor said that I will never forget:
"I have spent the majority of my life misjudging people."

Parting shot:

On the way from the airport to the hotel, my first glimpse of Thai culture, from the inside of the tour guide's van.