The death of father time.
It's sad honestly, the position we as people put ourselves in within this society. Waiting. (Currently, I'm just waiting for my relief to show up so I can go home.) I have at the end of the day, a certian number of minutes, hours, seconds alloted for me in life. Once I die, it will be a mathematical fact that I will have lived on this planet for so much time.
Knowing that my seconds may or may not be running short, what do I choose to do? Get paid sitting around with my thumb up my ass half the time. Progressing in nothing except advancing through a philisophically doubtful theory called time. Wasting my breath, wasting my blood... For what?
What purpose do these moments serve? Surely I can find better things to do with my time than waste away, falling prey to the ticking of the clocks.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes there's nothing better than being able to sit down and know that for another period of dubiously important time I'll have nothing at all to do, and can relax. But if I relax my life away, well, I probably won't have much to be relaxed about once I realize I'm coming back for a second tour of duty.
On that note, I think this is my second or third last incarnation. Not quite my last one, but almost. (For those of you who don't believe in reincarnation, first, read a physics manual focusing on energy, second, go get AIDS.) I'm coming very close to reaching my pinnacle. I've used the sword in many lives past, and now I'm working on the pen.
As for the age old question, is the pen mightier than the sword? Ask the last man stabbed to death through the eye sockets with a ball point.
Knowing that my seconds may or may not be running short, what do I choose to do? Get paid sitting around with my thumb up my ass half the time. Progressing in nothing except advancing through a philisophically doubtful theory called time. Wasting my breath, wasting my blood... For what?
What purpose do these moments serve? Surely I can find better things to do with my time than waste away, falling prey to the ticking of the clocks.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes there's nothing better than being able to sit down and know that for another period of dubiously important time I'll have nothing at all to do, and can relax. But if I relax my life away, well, I probably won't have much to be relaxed about once I realize I'm coming back for a second tour of duty.
On that note, I think this is my second or third last incarnation. Not quite my last one, but almost. (For those of you who don't believe in reincarnation, first, read a physics manual focusing on energy, second, go get AIDS.) I'm coming very close to reaching my pinnacle. I've used the sword in many lives past, and now I'm working on the pen.
As for the age old question, is the pen mightier than the sword? Ask the last man stabbed to death through the eye sockets with a ball point.