Week 1: Hedonism.

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To be honest all I wanted to do this year was progress with my new job, read 52 books in 52 weeks, and be a better, more outgoing person in general.

Well I’ve read 1 book and I’m still an asshole. Bummer.

Anyway, normally I treat reading books like I do my life at the moment; I skim read parts, never finish anything, and get fuck all out of the whole experience.

Hoping to change that though. 1 book under the belt and I’m feeling cautiously optimistic – that’s why I’m here. The first, and most resonate of all the chapters, was on hedonism. What is hedonism you ask? Well let me just pull the wikipedia definition for you: ‘Hedonism is a school of thought that argues that pleasure is the primary or most important intrinsic good. A hedonist strives to maximize net pleasure (pleasure minus pain)’. Or, the way I care for it, basically someone that strives to derive as much as possible out of every moment with a reckless lack of foresight.

I didn’t just arrive at this point by reading that book though. It’s 3 in the morning and I’ve been binge watching that ‘Girls’ show by Lena Dunham. If you don’t know her, she’s the creator, writer, director, and star of the show. The shows basically about a bunch of twenty somethings trying to navigate life around New York. The main character, a writer, is based on Lena Dunham and her own experiences. She writes essays on her own life and basically lives her life the way she does, as a hedonist, in order to gain more experiences she can write about. You can see how subversively meta that is, but what’s more impressive is that it spans 4 seasons.

Now this got me thinking, what interesting things have I done recently that could translate into an essay or an episode – absolutely fuck all. This is about the point I realised, through much self deprecation, that I’m wasting my life and I have nothing to say. I don’t want to be the guy that’s always saying “not much, you” when asked what’s new. I do not want to be that trivial.

The point of this is each week to become better, a promise to myself.

I will have something to say in 52 weeks when I’m 52 deep, riddled with hedonism and no longer an asshole.

Then I will write something interesting.

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Feels.

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I cannot believe some of the shit I use to post on here.

So self indulgent, so pretentious. Half of it was about being carefree, yet there I was sitting at a computer writing about problems. Irony everywhere; in retrospect I may as well of filled a little blow up pool with some irony, bit of self importance, a dash of bullshit and taken a dip in that while I was writing shit – because I was fucking swimming in all of these things. Lucky I didn’t though, probably would of just written about that too.

So what’s different about this? Probably nothing. I did however, have what I perceived to be a cool little thought just before though, who ever’s reading this may not give a fuck, but these things happen…the thought though, strap yourself in, it’s a banger; how cool is it how things just happen, like one day you’re just a baby that never asked to be brought into the world, you can’t do anything for yourself, your body just grows without you even trying, yet to use this god almighty body you’ve been bestowed with you have to control it, but at the same time you can’t control the outcome of the actions you controlled your body to do; but that’s ok though, because everything outside of your body…the world…is so well balanced with good and bad, that everything will just be ok if you do the ‘right thing’. Anyway you start to grow up, and just like when you came into the world, you didn’t ask for this either, it just happened; you start learning, you don’t know why you’re learning, maybe you’re learning so one day you can learn about why you need to learn. Once you’ve learned an adequate amount you start to qualify as an adult; after you’ve been one of those for a while you become what is called ‘old’. I hear ‘old’ sucks. By this time you’ve probably suffered tragic losses, you’re all withered and sick, you’re bodies doing things you’re not asking it to; but you’ve also had some times, so it’s ok that your existence is coming to an end. The running theme here would be that things just happen; kind of like my run on sentences; kind of like how I come to the sweeping realisation that I use to be a pretentious twat, ya know?

Nothings gonna change the fact that no matter what I write here, what I do today, what I do tomorrow, or what I’m doing in a year from now, these things that happen, will ultimately end, like just stop happening – and it will all be rendered pointless, but again that’s ok, because you’re not really going to be around to exist in your non-existence are you. 🙂

Anyway, point is…that I don’t have one. Just felt adding something to here so I can come back to this and be reminded not to be such a pretentious wanker whenever I touch the keyboard.

Life of Jerry.

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Week Dates Topic Tutorial Assessment details (Adelaide Time)
13 – 19 July Pre-teaching Jerry spent the vast majority of this time coming to the realisation that he was now, in fact, Jerry who attends Uni. Jerry knew that the time away from this sweeping realisation should be spent preparing himself for Uni. Naturally, Jerry done the opposite; instead, Jerry opted to tell himself, through moments of utter genius, that he would get everything done next week. So reassured with himself due these moments of genius, Jerry knew – he really knew – that he would get everything done.
20 – 26 July Pre-teaching Jerry got nothing done.
1 27 July – 02 August Week 1 Unprepared and late, Jerry made it to class. Class consisted of the teacher forgetting to play the introduction game with the students; a foreign situation to be left in for any Uni student, that is to bond without the help of a social gimmick, the students took to bonding over how expensive the textbook was – not Jerry, he didn’t have a textbook, Jerry had a blunt pencil and a lack of dedication. Jerry kept quite and chewed his pencil. Jerry would be ready by next class, Jerry would have a textbook, a sharp pencil, and in turn, a new friend.
2 03 – 09 August Week 2 Jerry arrived with his textbook and acquired a new friend. The teacher asked the students to intervene with a text within the course outline. Jerry spotted the course calendar and was immediately inspired. Jerry would intervene with the calendar. Whilst Jerry was inspired, Jerry would soon succumb to his pessimistic nature. He questioned if he was skilled enough to reinterpret a calendar in a creative way. Riddled with ambivalence, Jerry thought he would take his inspired idea and ask his housemate to write it for him. Jerry thought his housemate to be much smarter than himself, his housemate always had sharp pencils and textbooks.
3 10 – 16 August Week 3 Jerry hands in an utterly inspired piece of work. Jerry wonders if having included the fact that his housemate actually wrote the piece would get him in trouble; or, maybe, the teacher would think Jerry is just writing in a post modern fashion and mark him up.
4 17 – 23 August Week 4 The teacher reads Jerry’s piece – it is abundantly clear Jerry hasn’t written it. Still, he thinks the attempts at humour and post modernism are downright awful. He shakes his head as he realises he is reading yet another attempt at being self referential right now.
5 24 – 30 August Week 5 Jerry receives his draft back, attached to Jerry’s draft are a flurry of derogatory comments regarding Jerry’s self worth, demeanour, and future. Jerry is asked to promptly create something original – or risk failing the class. To this, Jerry decided he would take the already reinterpreted calendar, and reinterpret it again.
6 31 August – 06 September Week 6 As we all know at this point, Jerry is not a bright lad; Jerry does however, have some inspired ideas. So Jerry took this week to employ one of his inspired ideas. Jerry would like to apologise for any grammatical, past/present/future tense, spelling, and point of view errors found within this reinterpretation of a reinterpreted text – this is after all, Jerry’s first time writing something like this.
7 07 – 13 September Mid-break Jerry, feeling a lot better about his apology, spent a lot of this week taking a well deserved rest. Following the well deserved rest, Jerry began to employ a plan over the next 3 weeks to become much more dedicated towards Uni for the second half of the semester.
8 14 – 20 September Mid-break  Jerry became more dedicated.
21 – 27 September Mid-break Jerry became even more dedicated.
28 September – 04 October Mid-break Jerry was becoming more and more dedicated by the second.
9 05 – 11 October Week 9 Jerry slept in.

Jerry, realising at 4:00pm, that he was still only partway through one of the 5 pieces needed for the folio of polished writing, decided he would make 4 other copies of his inspired calendar idea, and further re-interpret them. Jerry thought this would go down swell; Jerry thought this was perhaps his most inspired creation of all of his inspired creations; Jerry thought this idea he had conceived was so inspired, and so filled with grandeur – that he would far surpass the rest of the class.

Jerry actually had his heart set on UniSA creating a new grading system that outweighs perfection – he wanted it to be called ‘The Jerry’. In Jerry’s mind, only he could be awarded ‘The Jerry’, and all his future pieces – would be awarded ‘The Jerry’ – due to his originality and prose.

 Folio of polished writing due 09 Oct 2015, 5:00 PM
10 12 – 18 October Week 10 Jerry failed due to a lack of originality and prose.
11 19 – 25 October Week 11 Jerry became disheartened by his lack of being awarded ‘The Jerry’, and deferred indefinitely. It is said however, that Jerry can still be seen around campus chewing his blunt pencil while sharing his cynical view on the price of the textbook.
12 26 October – 01 November Week 12 Jerry deferred.
13 02 – 08 November Week 13 Jerry deferred.
09 – 15 November Swot-vac Jerry deferred
16 – 22 November Swot-vac Jerry deferred
23 – 29 November Swot-vac  Jerry deferred

99 Problems, Caitlyn Jenner Ain’t One.

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It’s pretty funny, and maybe a little bit crazy, that as a human race, the whole concept of ours is pretty much the same as the iPhone’s business model; that’s to say we’re continuously updated, only to have everything we’ve gained rendered obsolete shortly after.

For the iPhone it’s a new model, and for us it’s just our next problem; or death, if you wanted to get really grim.

We’re basically all just trying to fill a bottle of water with a gaping fucking hole in it. Conquering one problem, only to be faced with a brand new one.

That could just be us finding purpose in our present…well it is just that, but just because you’re trying to find this purpose doesn’t mean you have to get caught up in every single little thing you’re faced with; some celebrity had a sex change…hmm, who cares? No matter how many social media posts you make on that, it won’t change the fact you’ve forgotten about it by next week, and that it’s probably going to make a buzzfeed list next year called ’10 things we don’t give a fuck about anymore’; kind of like the iPhone 5, or that one grand problem you had in your life a year ago – it just doesn’t matter anymore.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t care about anything. You wouldn’t be a person if you didn’t, not that that wouldn’t be an inherently bad thing.

I’m just saying pick your problems and what you choose to care about more carefully – because be honest with yourself, most of the grander scale things you choose to tackle in your life, you’re never going to fix, not in this lifetime anyway, and realistically this lifetime is all that matters – you’re not really going to be around for the next one, are you?

So once you realize you’re just filling one void after another, you may choose more carefully about what you want to fill it with. It doesn’t have to be huge, just something important to yourself, truly important – not false – important enough that it doesn’t make that buzzfeed list next year.

The plot points of your life. 

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I would say “have you ever thought about the plot points of your life” as an opener, but really what kind of normal person sits down and actually thinks like that? Not many, if any. Just like not many, if any, would use scribe lyrics from the 2000’s if they wanted to be taken seriously.

But let’s try and move past that though. I’m going to say imagine; imagine perhaps sitting down and thinking about thinking about the plot points of your life. What would they be? Would it make a top selling novel? Would your life have a hook; a hook being that catchy part in every Taylor swift song, something that caters to the masses essentially.

If your life did have a hook, what would it be? Did you have dementia, yet excel in recalling stories from your past, that’s enthralling, surely it is; anything that betrays normality is enthralling. You don’t walk past a guy with no arms doing a handstand and think no more of it; no, you stop, admire, take a photo, and snapchat the shit out of it; its a fucking armless man doing a handstand, may as well be a man with Parkinson’s dancing to shake it off. Too many Taylor swift references.

I’m so bad at staying on topic, but like that guy with dementia, I hope you can recall 2 minutes ago to remember where we were up to. If not, you’re less intelligent than a man with dementia; that could be a great hook though, perhaps that’s your selling point, you’re plot point, the story of your life.  I like to to think I have a few interesting plot points, captivating moments in my life if you will; however none of them pertain to my most self, they are simply things that have happened around me; they reflect on me sure – they aren’t however, my problems.

If you were to put your feet up and think to yourself, “gee, if someone was to write a book about me, would it be interesting, would I be interesting, would people even care?”. Where do you think you’re likely to come out the other end of that? Would you be impressed? Dissatisfied? Filled with contempt due to how inept you are at being compelling?

Would going to reds for the usual 4 pack of pulse and baggy of roundies make it in to your lucky authors book, due to what is clearly provocative storytelling, or would no one give a shit? Probably the latter. Maybe you should be the author of those reds stories, on a Facebook status, that no one cares about.

Maybe something terrible happened to someone around you that you could riff of for some plot points; me for example, my grandma waved goodbye to one of her legs, then another – shortly followed by us waving goodbye to her; then dad got cancer; then mum had a heart attack. That would all make for some interesting storytelling, right? Riffing of other people misfortunes for your own sense of self importance is compelling, right? Isn’t it?….No not really.

Not when you could stop feeling sorry for yourself, which in turn would allow you to do something interesting, something good, something positive, something that may influence someone else; perhaps make them think that they are compelling enough to have a book written about them; which in turn renders you interesting, gives you a plot device, a hook? 

There’s always a chance you couldn’t give a fuck about someone writing a book about you, and the very thought frightens you, because the hooks you possess are secret, it’s all shit you hide, you don’t want anyone reading that; which in itself makes for provocative reading. So many ironics. 

Think about it, what’s your story, is there one? Or is it just starting now? Do you give a fuck? Probably not 😎

If not, just try and brush all your silly little problems aside and try and do something interesting. It can’t hurt. 

It’s Not the End of the World

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Well it is. In the context of this of this blog entry anyway. So now you’re aware that it is the end of the world, and when I say end of the world, or life, I mean it, not that you just broke a freshly manicured nail – no, the world is literally going to fucking end; you’ve now enveloped your whole imagination with what that means to you personally. We’re going to take that scenario and lend it a sense of urgency.

We all know the world is going to end at some stage, be it earth literally, or just our own world – same thing? Irrelevant. Point is, we don’t particularly imagine what it would be like if our world was ending in say… 12 hours.

To me thats so interesting; I wonder if you would be calling your boss to ask for an extra shift at the job you hate, so you can earn money to dine out at restaurants you can’t really afford – so you can take photos of the dishes to post to your Instagram? Would you even care about your Instagram and how many followers you had? Would you spend a second of your last 12 hours scrolling down your newsfeed? Would you be reading this; searching for someone to influence how you should really be feeling – or would you go out and do exactly what YOU want to do? Un-influenced by anybody but yourself?

The only reason I pose this question is because we’re basically all the same to some degree or another. Everyone checks their Facebook, Instagram and snapchat – that’s a blanket statement – but moving on.

My point is, that all of it is so unimportant, and it’s only once we’re faced with the end of our very own world, that we begin to see whats important. Fuck, you may even deem it necessary to take all your clothes of, parade around naked, and protest the very fact it’s taken you this long to do so in your last 12 hours.

I have just one more question, why does it take the novelty of only having 12 hours to live in order to make you not give a fuck that everyone would see you naked? Is it because the world is ending so adbruptly that you no longer care?

Well, news flash, the world is ending for you at some point as it is; 12 hours, 73 years, it’s trivial almost, it doesn’t matter, so why not do all these spontaneous things that you innately enjoy throughout life as a whole – rather than just within the novelty of the 12 hours you’re currently portraying in your head?

Sincerely yours, the guy currently doing nothing outgoing whatsoever.

If Humans had Blurbs.

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I’m sure that anybody that has ever read a book, or even perhaps heard of a book, would know that it comes with a brief synopsis, or a blurb if you will, on the back. It’s very much a still version of what a trailer is to a movie. This is all very rudimentary obviously, you know this as you read it; I know this as I write it. Now we’ve cleared that up, you should have no problem in understanding my cutesy little analogy I’ve cooked up about humans: yourself, myself, having a blurb, synopsis, or trailer pertaining to our own selves. Mine for example may say “enjoys long sits in front of his computer writing about people having blurbs hovering above their heads”. Depends who the author of me is I guess; that however, is a bigger question that nor me or any other human with a blurb can answer. They can pretend to know, however their synopsis would read but two words: ‘pretentious twat’. Anyway, moving on. If all humans had a blurb, just an honest, no bullshit, brief representation of who they are as a person – none of this tinder bullshit where they give you who they are as a person for 2% of their actual lives – but the trials and tribulations they have faced, and are going to face; something that is genuinely interesting and going to make you want to pick them up and read them, figuratively of course, you don’t wanna go to jail and have that shit on your own blurb – because who’s gonna pick you up for a brief skim read with what may be undesirable results. I for one can say I’ve never picked up a book that sounded terrible; I’ve picked up books that sound good about terrible things. For example I bet you’ve never picked up a book called ‘This book is literally going to fucking murder you’; however you may be more inclined to pick up the book called ‘Learning about how not to pick up books that are going to fucking murder you’. I’m not sure whether or not you are thinking this yet, “but won’t knowing a fair amount about someone before pursuing them take the fun out of it?”, well that may be true, but have you ever walked into a library where you have to pick up and read chapter after chapter of uninteresting bullshit, just to arrive at the conclusion that you no longer want to read it? Well that’s essentially relationships: a whole bunch of books without blurbs (people), sitting in a library (the world), under generic genres (stereotypes), while the angry old librarian is telling you to hurry up before they close (death). Sounds grim. So I suggest you head to ‘thistotallyisntarealwebsiteforpetitions.com’ and lodge your support in making everyone carry huge honest signs around about themselves so we know who to avoid, and who not to avoid. Meanwhile Pitbull just came on on Spotify so I’m going to break my computer now. Put that on the blurb.

Rape viewed objectively.

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I don’t normally write about some kind of blanket topic. This is new for me.

I also don’t pretend to know anything substantial about the topic of rape. So this will be short.

Now I’ve never been raped. I’m a guy. I’d imagine it’s quite a rare occurrence to be raped as a guy – again, I don’t know; however, through my recent binge watching of horror movies, which turned out to be less pointless than I thought, I’ve derived some kind of opinion on it that I hope a guy can take away from this.

I dunno about you, but as a guy, I have never felt fearful for my life or being raped walking to a train late at night, or leaving a club by myself, or going to the shops by myself late at night. It’s not in the back of any guys mind that we are going to be raped. I sound fucking stupid even saying that. That’s how out of touch I am, and maybe you are, of how a girl/woman must actually feel. The general consensus of females would be that they are more sensitive than us. Would you agree? So I can’t imagine what it would feel like to have this thing, that we as guys don’t even think about, constantly in the back of my head as I hop of the train at night. It’s kind of unfathomable.

The other thing is joking about it. I use to joke about it all the time, and honestly I’ll probably slip and do it again – around the right people that is. In saying that though; If you’re joking about it without a conscience, perhaps think about you’re future daughter being raped by a group of strangers, see if you still find it funny. Or your son you’ve raised with what you thought were a pretty decent set of morals, raping that somebody else’s daughter. Perhaps your wife got raped on the way home from work. Still funny?

I don’t know what my point is exactly. Just put yourself in the victims shoes, not just during being raped, but the constant dread of the prospect of it, and living the rest of your life with it when someone you’re ‘trying’ to love touches you.

It’s fucking disgusting.

Comments encouraged.

The past, present, and future. You happy?

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We all look to the future as some kind of thing that we bestow with grandeur, the future is everything, it’s what we want to be, our ideals, it is also – in every sense of the word, completely unrealistic. Why? Because you set the future up to be this amazing prospect; like you’ve reached something, some kind of goal, your poison, and once you’ve reached it, you’re going to be sitting there, revelling in your satisfaction, more content than ever. That is not true. Think back, have you ever reached a goal you set for yourself? Maybe you lost some weight; maybe you got that job you deserved by working a lesser job for a prolonged amount of time; perhaps you finally got a nice coffee at Maccas; point is, you endured hardship in any which case – not true hardship, relative hardship, but hardship in any case. Are you still happy? Do you now want more? Do you want a better coffee at Maccas next time? Perhaps you want the coffee to pertain to the same levels you expect it to from the past – that’s nostalgia, not happiness. Looking to the past is not happiness, it’s discontent with the present. It’s a vicious circle that we occasionally find purpose or happiness within. You’re effectively “longing for the past, looking to the future – but living in the painful present”, someone really smart once said that in history somewhere. I think it’s natural to want the past and that relays itself into the natural order that is parenting. As a parent you’re looking to the past and thinking about how happy you were as a kid, while your thinking this, your kids right next to you, and try this, just really try – to not want to give them the best life they can have at that particular moment. It’s natural to want to do so. Perhaps that is the purpose of everything. To relay what we have learnt to our children. I feel like no matter how many wise lessons we give them though – the world is still going to have problems. It’s unavoidable – in the present at least; but we look to the future, like I’ve said, hoping these problems will go away. They won’t. I think we’re working towards something bigger, but what is bigger? It’s just something we don’t have right now. So we hype it. We put it on a pedestal. We become anxious for it. It’s all we have – because we are no longer content with the present, the vicious circle. That’s fine. It’s an animalistic instinct we’re born with. I’m questioning it yes. But my questioning it is just me trying to derive some kind of purpose from my present; your reading this is your present too. I’m essentially relaying a lesson to you, from me, have I enriched your life? Made you question anything? I don’t expect to do so, but I hope I have. The present is painful if we’re not pursuing something. So reach the next step, the next goal you have….your purpose perhaps? GO GET THAT BETTER MACCAS COFFEE. But be prepared that it won’t be enough after long…It’s just a coffee – a euphemism for everything else you pursue. You’re going to want more – period. Be content with the fact you will always want more. That way you wont be discontent when you need it.

A non – fisherman on fishing and life.

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Before I begin, you should know that I come up with the title of this blog after I completed it, sorry, finished it with adequacy relative to my intelligence, because I’ll never complete anything. Nobody completes anything. You’re ignorant, irrational, naive to think so. I finished a book today. It was interesting. A man named Ernest Hemingway wrote said book: “Old man and the sea”. In said book he wrote a tall tale of a man becoming one with himself through catching a fish and all the trials and tribulations that come with doing so. He begs the question that we’re nothing more than the fish, perhaps the fish is wiser, we’re just more well equipped. After all, everyone has had that groundbreaking idea that puts themselves above everyone else, they just might not have had the certain tools in their life at that moment to execute the monumental idea; so isn’t that just like a fish? A fish could know well and good how to defeat us, he could be wiser than us, but the tools he has been given by whatever it is that created him: natural order, god – who gives a fuck –  have not bestowed him the wealth of a tool a human possesses. He, the fish, is left with nothing but himself and his wit; we humans are left with nothing but ourselves and everyone else’s wit. I beg of you to go out and catch a fish on your own terms without technology, to say fishing rods, nets, radars, boats; I want you to swim and catch a fish with your bare hands, no trickery, no bait, just what you were born with – what a fish lives with – what they were given. Now that would be fair; we both, the fish and I, essentially my equal, are using what we were originally given in an arena. Which is fair, is it not? However, using everyone one else’s ideas, and our natural evolution, the evolution that the great wise marlin never had the opportunity to partake in, is an unfair contest; so to think that a fish can put up a fight – or even succeed  – in defeating a human at a game the human himself conceived, is already baffling, and something we should admire; but now imagine a fish was as wise as a human, which he is, but he was given the same tools we were from the outset. Imagine how evolved they would be; they can already defeat us using their bare boned inheritance; never lone having evolution at their disposal. Laugh at me, or with me, but they could be humaning us from the sea from our boats – turning everything we know upside down, make us the sea to their land. Fucked if I know though, nobody does, because this didn’t happen, perhaps for a reason, a reason that at least until this day hasn’t been revealed to our simple selves. Perhaps we should call it naturalism and think no more, maybe call it a day at the same time – think no further, you know? Because I mean why think about what matters when there are so many more interesting things in the world to see and do? Well, to me, thinking about the relevance of all these more interesting things to do and see, is, in actual fact, an interesting thing to do. But I digress. Back to the marlin and the man that wrote about the Marlin. Maybe it was so we could fish the fish instead of them humaning the humans because for some unknown, baffling reason, we are born into some kind of higher self importance than that of the marlin, which is ironic, because I don’t know if the marlin feels he is more important than us, maybe he knows, sorry, thinks – he was born to be hunted. We were born to die, just ask Lana Del Ray. So why is it so hard to imagine a fish has a deeper sense of feeling than that of being used as tool for our appetite. Do you think the marlin thinks that he deserves spears to the cheek and 3 day battles at sea just so a human can prove he transcended defeat and destruction in the face of adversity? Fuck no. Put yourself in the Marlins scales, see what I did there; you’re in his scales now, you deserve to be free, and as a human you can relate to the marlin, because freedom is the pre conceived human condition, so why do we feel like we’re obligated to fish them, effectively becoming a net to their freedom, when we would feel so strongly against a fish or a shark humaning for us. Why does freedom as a people, stop at people? I’m not saying saying I don’t think fish should be hunted, fuck, I cook salmon every night at work, we dress it up to be some kind of beautiful thing, but realistically you’re just consuming your equal, in make up, to make yourself feel better about consuming it, in order to nourish yourself. Which rings true to natural order. We are moving appetites, no more than a shark is. Argue it all you want. Feel more superior than that, go ahead, do it, but ultimately it’s true no matter how well formed your excuse is. Sure we have diverse appetites. Appetites for money, drugs, sex, material things in general – or in the traditional sense food. All in all though, it’s an appetite that needs to be filled. So we hunt the marlin. And the marlin hunts lesser things than it to fill its appetite. Don’t feel bad. We were born with pre requisites for a reason – reasons we don’t know. Don’t question it too much though, you may find the answer and deter yourself from ever wanting to fill your appetite again, and where does that leave you? Dead is where.. I suppose at least that way you can say you finished something…more than I can say. But you never really finish anything, you endure through pain and hardship, to reach the end and hope you’ve learnt enough to give adequately to your apprentice, whoever or whatever that may be. And they live on, pass on, as you live on and pass on with them. You didn’t finish, you endured defeat and destruction, one of the most admirable things a person can achieve.