Betelgeus

You know, the really great thing about the end of the world is that I won't need my crutches any more. I hate crutches-I hate them almost as much as I hate dentists, raw onions, limps and high school musical. And what's fantastic is that in the case of an apocalypse resulting from a star going supernova, I probably won't need to keep those crutches. It's true, there's a silver lining to everything- including the end of creation.
What's really fantastic about Betelgeus is the general ignorance of the situation- I mean every few months people panic about some kind of apocalyptic happening, from zombies to atoms, but this- according to my physics teacher- very real threat, is being utterly ignored. Because we're scared? Or just because people honestly don't care to know or attempt to comprehend?Maybe it's 'cos it's more fun saying the worlds going to end and then having a good laugh the next day at everyone who ran around saying goodbye to each other and flipping off the maths teacher. It's not so funny when everyone just dies. Sort of grim, actually.
The most incredible thing, of course, is that we don't know when it'll happen. I mean, even saying, hypothetically, that we did know whether or not the radiation Betelgeus' supernova emits would kill every living thing on the earth, we still wouldn't know when it would happen, because it's unlikely we'd be alive to see it. Bit of an anti climax really, if I'm absolutely honest. We all die, and then what? We get to see the big bang from heaven?? 'Yeah, thanks, it'd have been nice if I could've seen my death coming you know, just a thought....'
So, there's a possibility of an apocalypse, but none of us know when it's going to happen or if it's going to happen and we're doing something completely against our natures- no ones taking sides.I mean, I can hardly talk. My biggest problem at the moment is getting out of my biology detention cos I turned up late....on crutches... Yeah, apparently the attitude of being absurdly obnoxious is an art practiced my biology teacher in a Jesuit Catholic boarding school. Sounds about right.
I mean, it's a lot like my first GCSE exam. I know it's next week, and I'm faaairly certain that it's on Friday, and if I was to take a guess I'd say it could be in the morning. But I've got no idea what subject it's in. I know I should be panicking. I know I should be stressing and revising and going mad and putting all my excess teenage hormones into developing a bookish strand of OCD.
But I just can't take the threat seriously without knowing it fully. And there's such a thin line, between not taking something as a threat because you don't know it, and being overly paranoid because of a fear of the unknown. Which ones better? I'd say the first, considering the latter would turn us all into paranoid insomniacs theorising about doomsday in front of Glee series 2 whilst eating tacos and wondering why summers so cold this year. But maybe neither is better.
I mean, I'm not saying I'm a paranoid insomniac who dreams of the apocalypse and like musical tv shows and mexican junk food. But I am saying that it's probably not good that I don't know what my first exam is.
I suppose there's levels. Levels of fear, levels of knowledge, levels of priority... I figure I'm just scared to know what my first exam is, so I let myself drift in an ignorant bliss. (Well, I say drift. Hobble. On my stupid crutches....) But on the other hand, something like Betelgeus- or the fact that my pet hamster was actually killed by my brother's cat, but my Mum told me it ran away- maybe we should remain ignorant of that kind of thing.

We all know this (rubbish) about Adam and Eve and Prometheus and all those 'fools' who stole knowledge from the Gods, and I'm not saying we don't need to or shouldn't pursue knowledge. That's human nature. Curiosity killed the cat but the human being thrives off it. It's what gives us meaning in our lives- this pursuit of new sensations and ideas and ways to do things.

However, maybe it's possible that sometimes, just sometimes, we need to not know. We need to close our eyes and block our ears and just forget. It's probably not 'right' and it's probably not big or bold or self sacrificing. But it's human, too.

The best thing about the apocalypse is that even if it comes tomorrow, tomorrow will just be like any other day, with something eventful in the middle.

Summer, TV,

And volcanic ash too- it's funny what randomly jumps into your mind when you sit down to write a long overdue blog update. I'm sorry, again, but seriously, there was this volcano in Iceland... Well, you know the story.
So, whilst sitting in my business class seat on my week late flight back from Hong Kong, I thought quite a bit. I also slept and watched Dorian Gray (creepy movie!) It's funny how much can cross your mind without you really thinking anything. And how a day flight can still leave you dog tired with jetlag...
Anyway, when I got back to England, it was cold. I mean, really cold-what's with that?? It IS summer right? Luckily it warmed up pretty quick, and thanks to our schmancy business class seat, me and my bro managed to get off the plane and out of departures in about 45 minutes, which is a record time in a life of airline travel. We saved a heck of a lot of time, and managed to get back in time to catch up on Doctor Who and play games with our family, AND eat roast chicken.In terms of time won and saved it was a win- win situation, and as we lay, digesting our delicious meal, raging over Rummikub and wishing that sleep would come before sunrise, i'm sure my brother and I shared a sense of quiet satisfaction that just this once, everything had gone smoothly.
But then it's funny, how time works. Because originally, we were supposed to be flying back to England on the 17th April- before we got a call saying it was rescheduled to the 4th May (some rubbish about glaciers melting and funny clouds) Cue panic about GCSE's, getting back at all, and the idea of my Mum home schooling us- but secretly me and my brother were glad- not just because we were getting to spend school time in a tropical country swimming in the pool or sailing in the ocean. No it was much....'deeper' than that.It was time with family, a little freedom, a gold and chocolate extra bit of holiday dropped straight into our laps, with an extra coating of volcanic ash. So that when we got another call saying we now had to fly back on 27th April,a week earlier than planned, my Mum and I spontaneously burst into tears- and it didn't feel particularly triumphant. I'm not (much of) a teary person- unless Black Beauty, Bridge to Terabithia, or Hamlet is involved. But it was something like a line Lemony Snicket once wrote- 'it's like arriving at the top of the stairs in the dark, and there's that sickening moment where your foot falls through space, missing a step that isn't there'. Or something like that; it's all a half real expectation that seems all the more of a loss when it's no longer held to be true. All those moments half dreamed up already, time with family and being home, suddenly made to be nothing more than an impossible fantasy.
And then I get back here and it turns out I've missed nearly all of Spring too- the daffodils are withering, and there's no raspberries anywhere! And suddenly it's all less win-win and more lose-lose. I've missed all these televised debates, almost the whole election, and 4 episodes of Doctor Who (caught up on iplayer, didn't bother with Gordon Brown calling someone a bigot though). It also turns out that what I, stupidly, imagined as a small favour for a friend has resulted in me standing up in a mock election for the Green Party next Thursday- whose manifesto I'm barely aware of. (A friend recommended I bring a fake spliff, and that was about where my research ended.) All my time, all these things that have happened, should happen, could happen, will happen have escaped my grasp- like fishing with a handreel and feeding those annoying little fish on the end rather than catching them. There's a niggling sense of their existence- a tug on the line, ripples in the water, but when you reel it in, it's just- empty.
In spite of all this, it's actually sort of comfortable.Sad, yes. A little bit painful, yes. 100% bewildering- without doubt. But when it comes down to it, it's a lot easier to deal with than you'd think- almost enjoyable. I've, often, said that I'm generally unaware of my location in the space-time continuum. But that's a lot more difficult than it sounds, because you are made to be constantly- presented daily with your timetable, calendar, diary, whatever it is. Even the seasons themselves dictate things to do, clothes to wear, food to eat, places to go. Everything is under some kind of influence. Being detached from all of it, and watching yourself slowly sink back in, is pretty fun. It gives you a chance to feel more certain of yourself- because that's the only thing you're certain of, and let you get your own perspective sorted.
So, if any of you (DFJ) are in the pursuit of a sense of liberation, freedom, or true equality, I'd recommend taking a break and getting stuck in a country six thousand miles away- because there's nothing like a bubble of chaos to yank you out of the order of things and let you sit back and watch- if only for a little while.