For some reason, this bloody page won't let me upload a picture today. And i had a really good one, too. *pout*
ANYWAY. I've been a bit naughty haven't I, saying i'd keep updating this, and then leaving it until August, and now its past bonfire night and i've been very elusive. So, i'd like to formally apologise for my lameness and promise to at least TRY to update this more often, but what can i say? University is demanding more and more of my time. Do they think i'm actually trying to get a degree or something?! Hurr.
So yeah. Back onto something more (or less, who knows) interesting, i seem to have gotten back into my fantasy hobbies of drawing. Unfortunately the book is on hold for now, too many essays have given me much less will to actually write any length of prose so i think i'm going to go hardcore writing over the holidays. Ideas keep changing and reformulating, so the sooner i get one DEFINITE idea down, the better. Its very... liquid, i guess? i can't pin it down apart from the characters who are already set in my head. Apart from my heroine, who i cant find a name for. I'm thinking something celtic/gaelic like Liath (Not that particular name because its been used, but something like it anyway). Heres an idea: submit your ideas to me any way you know how! I know that at least ONE of You will have an idea. *Villanous eyebrow-wiggle*
But apart from that, my renewed interest in all things supernatural and ethereal and so on and such forth, is proving to be a bit of a problem. Currently, i'm sat in Swansea University Library. I have my dissertation proposal minimised, as well as all the sources im interested in to help me. What i DO have open is the works of Jessica Galbreth, a seperate word document for lyrics for my new band, formed with my partner in crime, Owen 'Orpheus Man-Fairy' Francis, guitarist extraordinaire and Mark Tremonti's largest (bordering 'stalkerish') fan. All we need is a drummer and were set to record. So with music and literature in the works, maybe my degree is sort of null and void anyway. Yay for throwing £24,000 at nothing! Eugh.
But meanwhile, i DO have a degree to complete, and this A.D.H.D - like tendency to sit here going "oooh, look at the pretty wings!" isn't very conductive to the politics of the Parisi in the PRIA (Don't worry, you're not meant to know what this means, i'm not even sure i do). So while i'm quite content getting starry - eyed over sparkly pictures, my potential to get even a desmond is trickling away.
On a more doom-and-gloom note, things are getting rockier at university anyway. Conditions in my house have made things hard to tolerate and i often wonder whether its not worth just sacking it all in and leaving to concentrate on my creative skills. The only thing that does keep me going is knowing i have 6/7 months left before i'm free of education (and this horrible person) forever.
But all in all, things are going well. And next time i post something i'll do it with a particular description. I'm going through a 'i like Dante's Inferno' stage, so it'll maybe be all about this. Its very interesting, i assure you.
Again, sorry for being so shi.. ahem. BAD, at keeping updated. I have People on my bottom pushing me to write more often which is helping. Much love.
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
Holy Wow.
I just found this and thought you might all like it. Very different way of thinking!
The Egg
By: Andy Weir
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. You wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.
The Egg
By: Andy Weir
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. You wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
Erk!
The last time i posted was a very trying time for me; still, it's no excuse to have been so lax in my blogging duties! Oopsidaisie.
So, most recently, things have been a little better. Obviously, i still miss my nana but thats something thats never going to go away, i'm blessed enough to have some lovely memories of her, and i've been given more drive to do well. Which is great, because apparently my family have connections to a publisher. Which might kick my ass well enough to finish this book!
Lifesong, by the way, is going to be re-written from a slightly different perspective. No change to the plot, more so a change in narrative and such. I did a lot of searching, and have got some of my characters saved from pieces of art created by others (obviously intended for different reasons but they somewhat fit) which have given me more to gon on . Its nice to see my characters being shown. HOWEVER. i would DEARLY love an artist to really do them for me. Properly. *Hint hint*.
Sadly, though, the writing is going to be slow going recently, as... dun dun dunnnnn... DISSERTATION proposals have to be in soon as well as the fact that 10,000 words are due for this time next year. Im wondering what to do my dissertation on. Im caught right now between the politics of Nefertiti, and the settlement of Roman Britain. Hmmmm. I think Roman Britain would be more easily researched, personally, anything to get a better mark!
Okay, so, i know this hasn't been the most riveting thing i've ever written but i was butt-smacked to update so i have. And i PROMISE, REALLY PROMISE THIS TIME that i'll write more OFTEN. promeeeeeessseeee. Really. =]
Monday, 15 March 2010
Tolsons, i Salute You..
Dear Nana
Today you gave us all a gift i never realised i was thankful for until now. Watching you end your life and begin another was an experience i'll never forget - even though i cry, its not because i grieve for you. How can i grieve when i can feel your happiness radiating around me? I know you saw your entire family, the result of your love gathered to wish you a safe journey, and i know how proud you must have felt - i am so proud of my family, and before today i never realised how much i enjoy their company. I have you to thank for that realisation.
Today has never felt like the end for me - only the beginning. Its as if you've passed a book to us with blank pages, ready for us to fill - now is the time for your children to shine and to live their life as you did, and when it becomes their time to pass the book to us, your grandchildren, i for one promise to fill the book to the very last page. And, talking of books, i promise i'll finish mine before my 25th birthday. And you'll be on the cover. We came together today as a family to share memories that you yourself created. You left us with the song 'i have a dream' - well, i too have a dream, that we all create memories for our children that are at least half as rich as the ones you left behind for us to cherish.
Until we meet again, nana - i will always love you.
Lauren x
And to my family - i need say nothing other than i miss and love you all, and i am thankful for all of you. I never realised how large a part of my life you all are in your entirety until this day. I hope that we all see a lot more of each other soon. Please, don't be strangers. ~x
Thursday, 24 December 2009
GOOD MORNING....!
When a person thinks of Vietnam they see napalm, tanks, Robin Williams or Martin Sheen. War, Americans, boundaries and My Lai.I visited Vietnam two years ago, in the summer of my 18th year. I, too, wondered, when my dad booked this holiday, what i would find. Whether i would find the remnants of a war, where people were wary to glance around in case it invited dissent; with a history of poverty and war and a communist government, i could hardly blame them. But when i found myself in the midst of Ho Chi Minh city, surrounded by locals i was wondrously surprised.
Never in all my life had i been proved so wrong! The Vietnamese people are the happiest people i've ever met - which is very odd to western culture i suppose, who coincide money with happiness. Money is the one thing not many Vietnamese people have, but if smiles were legal tender they'd be the richest people in the world.
And i wasn't entirely wrong. There are, of course, museums recording the various wars, monuments such as the Cu Chi tunnels that still remain to make sure the injustices are never forgotten. Shrines to fallen soldiers, and places where veterans and victims of agent orange or napalm chemicals can make an honest living without being exploited or overstretched. The thing is, the Vietnamese are proud people. They were too proud to ask for help in every war they won or lost and are too proud now to beg despite they pittance they each earn. (a bellboy in a 5 star hotel averages a salary of $5 a month, as we were told). They never beg - what they DO do is make items or find items to sell. Which is, to me, amazing.
The point i have to make here is that, although i enjoyed my time in Vietnam and i met many lovely people, live does carry on and i only ever occasionally gave it any thought - sometimes i look back at pictures and reminisce. I thought, with it being an upcoming tourist attraction, my presence in Vietnam would hardly be remembered by anyone. Though i was complimented and met some wonderful people. Again, i was very wrong.
In the later part of our holiday, we visited Ha Long bay - a world heritage site and the nicest aby ive ever seen. We were given a private boat with a full crew who fed us and showed us their home. One boy didn't speak much English, but he smiled lots and he really tried. So i gave him my email, and told him that he could practise his English by writing to me. He smiled some more and put the piece of paper in his pocket.
I thought nothing of it - time has gone by, no emails came. I assumed that another tourist would come by and show the same kindness, and i was very, very wrong. Two weeks ago, i received an email asking if i remembered him. His name was Hoa - of course, i replied. He sent this back:
hello:lauren !
I am fine .
How are you ?
I am very happy to receive your message. some day you should not just through the network.from the day you put flooded Halong Bay, I always remember to you and your family.I feel very happy family. your parents are understanding, friendly and kind.you and your family are in my heartyour pictures I feel like yesterday.How are you?you learn song yet?Health is not your parents?talk to you soon.!
hoa!
This is the best Christmas present ever.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Losing My Religion
I don't want to dwell too much on this kind of blog lest i be seen as emo or something. But, well, first and foremost, this blog was created as my own personal diary and this is where i offload all my emotions, from every part of the spectrum.
Im unhappy, right now, and most of it stems from money troubles. I used to consider myself as being above the tedium of money, and schedules, and the things that keep businessmen and the rich grumpy. The bank keep taking my money and i don't have enough left to live until January. Although its true i get paid at the end of each month, even with said wage i don't know how I'm going to manage. Its so worrying that i barely sleep any more.
Theres collateral damage to this too. Because i barely sleep, I'm constantly grumpy. I can't take a joke any more, i barely laugh, i snap at the people closest to me and my frown lines are deeper than ever. I feel like I'm drifting away from the people that mean the world to me, and I'm pushing myself out of the social circle i used to take great joy in being a part of. All I ever do is complain. I take offense to the slightest suggestin even when i know it's ludicrous. I used to look at people who couldn't crack a smile and think "Christ, lighten up." I'm now telling this to myself every day.
I've turned into my own worst nightmare.
And theres really no excuse for it, either. I do have good friends and i know i do, even though i don't see them nearly enough (Brinners and Kayleigh, i miss you both way too much. =/ ) I have a wonderful family (And I'm homesick more now than ever) and a boyfriend i don't deserve (Mi Querido, I'm sorry i snap so much). It is the support of all these people that has kept me cemented to my studies here in Swansea and if it weren't for them i doubt I'd have the strength to get through this as i have. I know for a fact that, if i weren't so in love as I am right now, I'd have left long ago and gone home to get a job. Doing what, I'm really not sure.
And I am in a happy place, when I forget how screwed over I am, and how hard life is. I look at my family and I see them struggle too, and wish I could help, and that if anything, makes me feel even worse. I'm so stuck its painful. It's hard and i wish it were far easier than it is. I resent the people in my life who go to daddy to bail them out - because they'll never appreciate just how lucky they are, and they'll never know how to truly take care of themselves. But, then again, they'll never know the same worry, and for that i feel happy for them.
I'm sure I'll be fine, soon. Trying to sort out my life IS hard, but it's a learning experience. I'm doing the very best i can to make it better for myself, and for others. To my friends that read this, bear with me and i promise I'll be laughing again soon. To my family, i can't wait to be home so i can remember myself.
And to Mi Querido, Thank You - Being around you makes me remember how truly lucky i am, despite my many vices. I love you.
Thursday, 1 October 2009
The Art of Doing As You Please
I'm beginning to wonder why on earth i've never read more of Oscar Wilde's publishings. The gist of this is, that last night i went to the cinema to watch the new adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray and LOVED it.
For those of you who don't know the story, i'll summarise now. Dorian Gray begins as a young, impressionable man, moving to London to claim his Grandfather's inheritance. He is wealthy, he is young and he is beautiful. So beautiful, he is brefriended by the artist Basil Hallward, who paints a portrait of him, claiming it to be his best work. After also befriending the Lord Harry Wotton, who preaches a life of hedonism and decadence, Dorian falls into a life of such indulgence. Wotton asks him if he would barter his soul to remain young and handsome. Dorian replies that he would, and so the story unfolds - the young man remains the same for 18 years, while the painting of him changes and ages, becoming uglier and older with each sin he commits. In the end... well, on second thought, i won't spoil it should you wish to read/watch it.
The relevance of this story is that it's what made me think. The simple truth of it is, we are ALL hedonistic, to an extent. Hedonism is the philosophical idea that pleasure or happiness is the highest good. The act of devoting oneself to seeking out those pleasures as a way of LIVING. There are names throughout history of these deviants who made it their lifestyle; John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, King Solomon (apparently), half of Rome's emporors... These are people who spent their life copulating, smoking, drinking, and possibly nothing else. And yet they're not THAT much more shameless than us as a modern society.
Oscar Wilde's book is supposed to be one of the last books of the Aesthetic age - The british age in the 18th and 19th century that coincided with the french Decadent period. It was a time much like the renaissance, when morals, ethics and lifestyles were being reconsidered. Although it is never directly mentioned, Wilde experiments and makes references to homoeroticism amongst many other indulgences people were beginning to reconsider at the time. If you like, the aesthetic age was the preset for the liberal society we live in today.
Which is where our own hedonistic nature comes in. We, as human beings, will take what we want, one way or another. For the younger, we will seek to own material object by any means. I myself have begged my parents for several things, all perceived to be 'the best'. For those a little older it is the pursuit of a man, or a woman, by means of chasing, courting, marrying, as well as getting the best job, the best car, the best home, the best dog. We are never satiated, never satisfied with what we have already. There is always something out there pushing us to try for better. As a society, we want the BEST, the greatest, the most pleasurable, all in aid of making our lives more pleasurable to live.
A friend of mine suggested that hedonism is entirely selfish and that it is not worth pursuing. Which, to an extent, i agree with. But without the hedonistic streak within us, we may not survive. It boils down to the basic carnal instincts; the need to eat, drink, sleep, multiply. The hedonist justification is that pleasure and pain are the simplest indicators of what is good for you, and what is bad for you - those things that feel good MUST be good for you. The things that hurt can't be of any use at all, other than warning you to avoid it.
Again, i agree to an extent. But pain can teach us many things and pleasure isn't always a good thing. Look at the heroin addicts and the self-harmers of society. How does a hedonist justify those sort of acts?
It comes back to Dorian Gray's story. He indulged in pleasure, and decadence, and the very best high society could offer. It froze his age, but, as his portrait showed, rot his very soul until he was hideous. Basically, hedonism, if taken too seriously, is NOT good for you, or for society.
But of course, if your partner pleases you, and it pleases them, you probably shouldn't say no. ;)
On another note, i'd LOVE to see how my soul would fare on canvas...
The relevance of this story is that it's what made me think. The simple truth of it is, we are ALL hedonistic, to an extent. Hedonism is the philosophical idea that pleasure or happiness is the highest good. The act of devoting oneself to seeking out those pleasures as a way of LIVING. There are names throughout history of these deviants who made it their lifestyle; John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, King Solomon (apparently), half of Rome's emporors... These are people who spent their life copulating, smoking, drinking, and possibly nothing else. And yet they're not THAT much more shameless than us as a modern society.
Oscar Wilde's book is supposed to be one of the last books of the Aesthetic age - The british age in the 18th and 19th century that coincided with the french Decadent period. It was a time much like the renaissance, when morals, ethics and lifestyles were being reconsidered. Although it is never directly mentioned, Wilde experiments and makes references to homoeroticism amongst many other indulgences people were beginning to reconsider at the time. If you like, the aesthetic age was the preset for the liberal society we live in today.
Which is where our own hedonistic nature comes in. We, as human beings, will take what we want, one way or another. For the younger, we will seek to own material object by any means. I myself have begged my parents for several things, all perceived to be 'the best'. For those a little older it is the pursuit of a man, or a woman, by means of chasing, courting, marrying, as well as getting the best job, the best car, the best home, the best dog. We are never satiated, never satisfied with what we have already. There is always something out there pushing us to try for better. As a society, we want the BEST, the greatest, the most pleasurable, all in aid of making our lives more pleasurable to live.
A friend of mine suggested that hedonism is entirely selfish and that it is not worth pursuing. Which, to an extent, i agree with. But without the hedonistic streak within us, we may not survive. It boils down to the basic carnal instincts; the need to eat, drink, sleep, multiply. The hedonist justification is that pleasure and pain are the simplest indicators of what is good for you, and what is bad for you - those things that feel good MUST be good for you. The things that hurt can't be of any use at all, other than warning you to avoid it.
Again, i agree to an extent. But pain can teach us many things and pleasure isn't always a good thing. Look at the heroin addicts and the self-harmers of society. How does a hedonist justify those sort of acts?
It comes back to Dorian Gray's story. He indulged in pleasure, and decadence, and the very best high society could offer. It froze his age, but, as his portrait showed, rot his very soul until he was hideous. Basically, hedonism, if taken too seriously, is NOT good for you, or for society.
But of course, if your partner pleases you, and it pleases them, you probably shouldn't say no. ;)
On another note, i'd LOVE to see how my soul would fare on canvas...
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