Choice

As always I’ve a choice and as always I’m indecisive about how to proceed. Trying to predict the outcomes is impossible. If I go one way I could lose everything or gain it all. If I go the other nothing will change, but then again, that really means nothing will change. My life will stagnate and become boring. 

I’ve no idea of my motivation. My reasons seem foolish even to me. But a question haunts me, am I just settling? However which choice that refers to is anyones guess. Is stagnation settling? Or is change, simply for the sake of it, settling? Does it matter?

What is choice? The ability to change an outcome, or simply accepting consequence? If one choice changes nothing, can it really be considered a choice?

My mind is an odd place indeed. I’m just thankful that I have time to choose. Life is content to proceed at my pace for the moment.

My future university has a pro-life club but no pro-choice one. Feels weird to me.

On the plus side it does have a trampoline club.

I’m thinking of dying my hair blond again.

I do like it when my hairs blond. But yeah hmmm decisions.

God I have a good life when this is the height of my decisions on a tuesday:L

Write a personal essay about your understanding of freedom and why you think it is important.

Freedom is such an important thing. The word itself has dictated our history. Again and again phrases featuring the word “freedom” have been coined and with them, charismatic individuals have brought nations to their knees. Indeed freedom is an important word, a word that has single handedly splattered the pages of history with the blood of millions. Yet I find it ironic that such an important, renowned and potentially infamous word is incredibly difficult to define.

The fact that freedom is so hard to define is what makes it so useful as a method of indoctrination. If you want soldiers to fight and die for you, all you need to tell them is that they are fighting for freedom. No more details are needed, for once you’ve mentioned freedom they will go to hell and back for you. Once they think they’re fighting for a better tomorrow they’re no longer people. Once they think that they are fighting for their loved ones they become weapons, living, breathing, relentless weapons. By this point, ironically, they sacrifice personal freedoms to fight for what they believe is freedom, but may well just be a dictators fancy. In my opinion this is why the expression, one man’s freedom fighter is another man’s terrorist, exists.

The concept of freedom is an effective means of control. Think of religion. World religions all offer freedom and salvation, but it comes with a price. In order to achieve the freedom religion offers, you must first impose restrictions on your personal freedoms. These restrictions aren’t necessarily a bad thing but they do prove that the concept of freedom is an effective system of control. They also suggest that perhaps human beings are not meant to have true freedom over their own lives.

True freedom cannot exist in our society, for it would be chaos. Could you imagine the world we would live in if any manner of criminal was free to perform any manner of crime they wished. No one would be safe, we’d live in constant terror. No, humanity as a whole cannot be granted true freedom because unfortuently we are like a disobedient dog. If we are not held on a leash we will get into all sorts of trouble both intentionally and unintentionally. True this may be a pessimistic view, but it is not one that is easily argued against.

But at the end of the day, what is freedom? Is it the ability to make your own choices or is it simply not having to face consequences. If there are no consequences then really and truly, there is no choice. But does that mean consequences are freedom? Does it mean that the only way freedom can exist is if we are being oppressed or punished? Once again it seems so ironic to me that the idea of freedom can only exist in the face of oppression.

Even as I come to the end of this essay I still have no idea what freedom actually is, perhaps no one knows. Is it oppression or is it choice, is it consequence or is it war, is it religion or is it peace? Nelson Mandela once said, “For to be free is not merely to cast of one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” I think this is the idea of freedom I like best, one where humanity treats one another with respect despite our minor differences. I think this is the definition of freedom I shall adopt. For to me freedom is what you make it to be, that is what makes it important. 

Change, choice.

My life is becoming static, that repulses me. Once something becomes static it is said to be dead as it slowly erodes itself from history. I’m an agent of change, I live for consequence and choice. It is my nature, would you care for me were I any different?

The King

The pompous king walks along the old mountain road. His royal blue robes appear silver in the lunar rays of the full white moon. His jewel encrusted crown masks him from us. On either side of him are his royal guards, seven of us. We walk slowly and consistently, in perfect time with the king’s movements without ever having to see him. It’s strange to think of him as a king, the title doesn’t suit him. Tyrant however, that’s a title that sits on the King’s head much more gracefully than his crown.

A whisper falls from the King’s lips. I foolishly turn to listen, but he isn’t talking to us, his teeth are just chattering with the cold. He’d never dream of speaking to us, for that would be treating us like equals and something the Royal Blue King will never do is treat others like equals. But it must be difficult for him to treat others like equals, after all no one else can have an entire village burned to the ground with a simple flick of their wrist. It doesn’t matter however whether my views are shared or if they are my own. It’s obsolete because I am one of the Tyrant’s royal guards, as far as others are concerned, I’ve made my decision. I turn my head away from the King, my hilted sword clinks off of the ground as I move, the only sound on this lonely mountain road.

Our walk continues slow but constant bringing us alongside a coniferous forest. The trees stretch high into the sky blocking out the silvery light of the moon. The earth below the trees is covered in fallen spines, the pinecone scent fills the air. The trees make me uneasy, their shapes are haunting and the darkness between them worries me even more. Anything or anyone could be watching us from the darkness. A twig snaps somewhere, its sound echoes around the mountain. It’s source could be five kilometres from us or five meters. Our pace quickens and unknown to all of us a Tyrant King’s heart begins to beat faster, his eyes darting from place to place, searching for any sign of movement.

We continue until another sound stops us, the groaning crack of a snapping branch. On a silent windless night, this is an unwelcome sound. Seven swords are drawn in an instant. The king backs away from the forest. The silent night is suddenly filled with a strange wooden whistle. Arrows tear through the sky, the two guards closest the forest fall instantly, groaning only slightly as they die. Before silence has a chance to take hold, shouts sound from the forest. Several figures dart towards us from the forest shrouded in shadows and rags. With a flash of steel weapons are in their hands. Two of the figures race towards me, I swing my sword at them. The blade connects twice and the figures fall away, dead or dying. The overpowering smell of blood begins to fill the air.

A third opponent presents himself to me. He darts towards me, metal strikes metal. We strike and defend while moving around each other. Our movements are precise like a dance, however make one mistake and its all over. My opponent stumbles over a stone, I strike, he dies in an instant. Someone punches me in the face and I fall too.

I’m back on my feet moments later. I spit out blood its copper taste making me feel sick. Someone grabs on to me. I almost strike before I realise it is the Tyrant, his eyes wide with fear. All around us bodies litter the mountain path. The king and I are the only ones left. Destiny has a twisted sense of  humour. I hear the lone whistle of a single arrow. The king frantically grabs my arm. Everything slows down and a choice presents itself to me. I know what I should do, what’s expected of me. I should stand in front of the Tyrant King and give up my life for him. But what if I don’t? Kill one and save a thousand or save him and doom us all? Why are we here? That’s not important. What we do with our time, that’s what makes all the difference.