Socialism died in England today, after a long illness. There were no celebrations, there were no mourners. Its passing will excite no tearful column inches, and only a few mocking ones. It passes not with a bang, not with a whimper, only in silence. No flowers.
I have a black notebook. It's about A5 size. It has a hardback cover, bound in a soft fabric. It's pretty thick, an inch or so, about the size of a novel. It has nothing to tell which is the front and the back since I took the barcode sticker off it. It has plain white pages inside it.
You know, this article started out as a calm scholarly examination of the nature of belief and religions. But then the vodka came out, so you get a bit more of a rollicking rant. Forgive me...
So, anyway. Here's the thing - we're living in a world which is becoming increasingly obsessed with certainty. This obsession is manifested in a number of ways, but the one thing they all have in common is an almost evangelical zeal around them - because it is a certainty, anyone who disagrees is wrong, is foolish, is evil. For someone to know that their certainty is, well, certain, different views cannot be allowed.
So, I undertook to do NaNoWriMo this year. This November was already going to be really hectic for me, and I only managed to actually hammer out just under 20,000 words. However, it taught me a lot of things - to try and achieve something with every moment you have, to turn off the internal editor, to ignore the internal doubter, to believe that I actually am able to do good things, to remember that fear is no excuse for inaction.
Late at night, with no-one to hear, no-one to know.
Decisions are easy when they are dreams. Dreams are hard when they are real. Reality is lost and confused. Confusion is eased by decision.
That wasn't what I meant to say. That paragraph should have stopped after the first two sentences. But I seek an ending, I see a clean clear circle from beginning to end to beginning. This paragraph should have stopped after one.
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