When I'm sixty-three point two one eight...

It's official, I think, I'm old. I'm sitting here in front of a group of mostly twentysomethings, completing a Certificate IV level qualification and, it seems that unless I "drive" them, they sit idle. I remember "when I was a boy", you were given the requirements of the task to be completed and off you went. I guess that's why maybe to this day , I like to learn by discovery. Piaget's theory of cognitive development is probably one of the few things that really spoke to me during my time my time studying for my diploma.

To illustrate my frustration somewhat, here's an example from this morning. I demonstrated to a student an accurate and simple process to draw a circle to a particular size, a compass big enough was not available for the process. I then sent him on his way and he drew his circle. He then approached me some twenty minutes later asking me to show him how to draw a circle, again. What was wrong with the method that I showed him before? He explained to me that the circle was a different size. Of course it was, silly me!

Now, I do realise that people are unique and learn in different ways but to me this is an example of laziness. Needing to be spoon fed.

So, is my frustration a case of me being a grumpy old man?

Hello, is it me...

Look hard at the darkness,
And you will see,
Just call my name and I'll be there.
You cannot touch me,
You would not dare,
I am the chill that's in the air.

And I try to get through to you,
In my own special way,
As the barriers crumble,
At the end of the day.

Dark rivers are flowing,
Back into the past,
You are the fish for which I cast.
And what of the future,
What is to be,
As the rivers flow into the sea.

And I try to get through to you,
In my own special way,
As the barriers crumble,
At the end of the day.

Do not take for granted,
Powers out there,
Don't step into the demon's lair.
Time is an illusion,
Rising from dying,
Steep is the mountain which we climb.

And I try to get through to you,
In my own special way,
As the barriers crumble,
At the end of the day

-The Small Hours.

By: Holocaust

Come In Spinner

Sometimes my existence feels like I'm living in a casino, the odds so stacked against me.

Heads, the "house" wins, tails I lose.

Prolly.

This is a war universe.

War all the time.

That is its nature.

There may be other universes based on all sorts of other principles,

but ours seems to be based on war and games.

-William S Burroughs.

Hey buddy...

Time is not perpetual

It is being swallowed by itself

Tail first, flailing despite

Our corrupt intervention

Umm...

Some days are better than others...and some days are better than others.

When the machine is working as it should, or, more appropriately, as we would like, time stands still as we wield our mastery of life upon an unsuspecting universe. There is no doubt, no error, nothing is too onerous, too cumbersome. We wear our existence like a bespoke suit, tailored to fit our very being. These are the days when life truly is a gift.

Then, there are the other days, when just "being" is a fraught experience. Moments of self doubt elongate into minutes, hours of a disturbed reality. Everything takes an immense, aching effort. Decisions that on another day would feel like but a reflex, become protracted, confounding, weighty anchors around our necks.The ignominy that infuses our character with shame, apprehension and repulsion of ourselves makes us a mere vestige of our optimum self.

So, I guess when days are like that, the best option is to grasp life as tightly as you can and believe in it?