All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Shakespeare, W. (1623). As You Like It. First Folio.
Maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer.
This is a quote from the original novel. It is a very interesting philosophical position. Looking from an existentialist POV, it is logical. Since we cannot have an authentic existence, we should abandon such an existence.
The exuberance the Narrator feels when Tyler Durden enters his life is the exuberance of living an authentic life, even though he may not be conscious of it.
“I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.” said the Narrator in Fight Club.
It is a somewhat straightforward translation of Nietzsche motto “God is Dead”.
Or is it? Losing all hopes here should refer to losing everything one values in life. Rather than a religious guidance, right?
Moving on.
This is an imitation of the opening scene in The Social Network in which Mark was coding and blogging his frustration over the break-up.
I am in an equally, if not more, disturbed state as he was. Thinking of all the existentialist ideas and trying to interpret different scenes from the movie Fight Club, is more intellectually-challenging than I thought it might be.
Since this is an imitation, and a rather close one I hope, foul language is not off-limit.
Back to the topic. Sartre was a bitch. Not all existentialists are bitches. I simply do not have enough data to support that claim. However, how does one promote an ideal which encourages people to make choice for themselves without predetermined value system and claim it is, at the same time, a choice for all other men as well? Well, a bitch can do it, so did Sartre.
It is a rather interesting notion. Let’s see it this way, we are free to make any choices as we would, and there is no possibility to judge its goodness given there is no predetermined value system or universal standards. In which case, if I made a decision to lie, should anyone actually penalize me? No. You have no basis to say that lying isn’t good. Then bitchy Sartre tried to defend existentialism as a less selfish way of life by claiming that when we make a choice for ourselves, we are making it for all other men. Because of what we do, all other men are being judged for the same action. Does it make any sense to you?
No, I hardly think so.
This is a typical threat coming from a secondary school principal: “You are nobody in the public’s eyes. But they recognize your uniform and school crest and they know you are from this very institution and they’d expect nothing less than exemplary.” On one hand, it seems extremely unfair that I am being judged by the public for others’ behaviors on the ground of us coming from the same school; on the other hand, why should I care? I am but myself. I am not defined by others’ behavior or words. You can describe me as rude, but that does not define my “essence”. To hell with it, it doesn’t even define my existence. I don’t exist as a rude being or a being of rudeness. I am a being with much complexities than language can describe.
In the same train of thoughts, how does others’ behavior define me? And how does my behavior set ground for others?
记得小时候电视台的少儿节目常常喜欢骗小孩子的家长的钱(时至今日依然如此,小孩子的钱真的不难赚),所以每天都会有一位小寿星上节目庆祝生日。
说实话,我不知道上一次节目要多少钱(如果换成现在的话,我一定索要出场费),但是只要你的父母肯出钱,除了有帅帅美美的主持人围着你打转,还可以让你点歌,让所有的观众听听你的音乐素养如何。话说至此,想象如果这个节目到今天还在做的话,每天的小寿星会点什么歌啊?
话说回来。有一年妈妈决定要宠宠我,因此在我生日前夕带我去上节目,那是我第一次明白原来电视上演的东西不一定是Live的。抱着失望(为什么不是现场呢?)又窃喜(提前录的话我就可以在家过生日吃蛋糕了!)的心情,我在Studio里待了不到半个小时的时间,就草草结束了我的荧幕初体验。后来播出来一看,哎呀,看起来也太难过了吧?!其实现在亦是如此,我明明觉得我已经在微笑了,为什么拍出照片或是别人看起来都还是那么凶呢?
那时候我才刚刚开始接触音乐,也不认识什么人,也不记得听到的是什么,现在想想真可惜。不过,年纪虽小,不妨碍我积极向上,当时对郑智化这名身残志不残的台湾歌手肃然起敬,特喜欢他的歌。再加上当时家里刚好新添置卡拉OK机,于是周遭左邻右舍便有“耳福”了,经常听到我在家里“刀刀(高高)的刀(高)跟鞋上有颠簸的脚步”。
然而,上节目自然不能点这种风尘女子主题曲,励志作为主旋律一定错不了。
所以,就有了今天分享的这首歌——《水手》。
长大以后再来看,真恨不得对小时候的自己竖起大拇指——你真棒,要一直这样坚持下去哦!
“…while [Voltaire and Camus] conceded that the world is meaningless, both writers insisted upon the collective search for meaning and dignity. Voltaire and Camus saw how our lives are shot through with beauty and truth and understood that lucidity is all we have in an indifferent and silent universe.”
Regarding French president Nicolas Sarkozy’s proposal to move Albert Camus’ body to the Panthéon in late 2009 (which never happened, by the way), Robert Zaretsky wrote this piece comparing the absurdist philosophies of Voltaire and Camus.
Read Giving Absurdity Its Due.
(Above, Albert Camus via)