Posted on | March 2, 2009 | No Comments
I have discovered that I seem to possess a cookie-shaped hole where my sense of worry over my own well-being should be.
It could be the consequence of a number of factors: my cool-headed analitical rationality that tells me nothing can happen, an overwhelming feeling of self-importance that tells me I’m not like other people and can’t get hurt, or the fact that I may simply be stupid.
Be that as it may, while there was some teeth-gnashing and anguish and general frettery among my family over the recent news that I will be visiting Kosovo, I couldn’t help but feel absolutely nothing regarding the fact that I will be crossing some imaginary line in the sand where “ours” and “theirs” get separated in two.
The guards almost jarred me back to some semblance of the idea that I was crossing a state border, though in fact, since the whole setup looks pretty much like some of the other pro-forma crossings, such as the bermudian triangle of Montenegro, Serbia and Bosnia, I might have even swung back a bit towards the attitude that this is, still, all just one land. The presence of concertina wire and the cross-welded beam segments used to hold them up gave me a bit of pause, as did the description of my travel-mates of the incessant practice of silly rituals stemming from ancient beliefs in the magical power of words and gestures, as if crossing out the new state’s stamp in the passport somehow made it all go away. People are touchy, tensions are, apparently, high. Still, I couldn’t help a general lapse towards a feeling of indifference, fuelled by the ultimate futility of it all, further compounded by the letter-track of quality fiction I’ve been enjoying lately. Yes, do take this to be a recommendation for the book, as well as the rest of the man’s opus. Truly an amazing author, masterfully combining human characters and storylines with big-idea hard scifi. But, let’s not venture too far and step back to the subject for a brief step or two more.
I’m guessing some things are just, well, human nature. Recurring behavioral patterns spontaneously emerging wherever the population pressure starts messing with our simian cognition, manifesting even in circumstances where no nurturial factors exist. Naught much to be done there. At least for us. We’ll see if our Vile Offspring fare any better. Or maybe not, cause you know what happens to the survival rate over a long enough timeline… yeah you do.
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