When I was little (HA HA), my religion teacher was a hauntingly beautiful, pale woman with a grudge against Madonna and a hopelessly naïve view on morals. She was my first crush, although I should be careful saying that because I frequently run into her husband as he works for festival security.
When I was 7 or 8, I was explained all about truth and lies by her. How lies are bad, and we should always speak the truth without exception. It’s a universal law because God wanted it this way: Truth = good, lies = bad. It’s indoctrinated into every child for the sake of simplicity.
It took me 10 years to un-learn what I so readily believed. And I wish everybody would, if for a second, because the assumption of good and evil leads to many logical fallacies and biases.
Today, I believe honesty has no ethical repercussion. It’s just like most other things: It completely depends on the context.
I believe it is critical not to be honest out of principle, but instead be sincere. Often the truth will do far more damage than the lie, and for some reason people still stick to it because they believe it is the “right” thing to do.
If you care about someone and you know a lie, however blatant, will make a situation better (permanently), how could you hesitate? Living a lie, in the end, is often far better than having to live with the truth.
This of course, puts the decision smack in your hands, something a lot of people have difficulties with. You will have to decide whether a lie is out of self preservation or goodwill. And it’s not always an easy decision, but until recently I thought I had it pretty well figured out.
So this is what I was coming to: A person like me, who is a little hard to keep as a friend, should have all the more motivation to be careful with his. And I wasn’t- I just lost at my own game. I really can’t go into detail but suffice to say that I fucked up. So did they, but that’s their story; I’ve got enough work correcting myself.
Live and learn, right? Yeah. But at this pace, I’m losing more than I bargained for. And making the mistake of being honest rather than sincere, I destroyed much more than I thought possible.
"Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives… and to the ‘good life,’ whatever it is and wherever it happens to be."
-Hunter S. Thompson
After mocking your new years resolutions and revealing them as the fake, useless, pointless, unfound illusions that they are, I decided to make a few of my own. Okay well- One:
A better diet. While this habit of pizza and sandwiches might be quick and easy, it’s not doing me many favors. On top of that am I getting tired of the lack of decent fucking martino subs around here. All this leads to one inevitable conclusion:
Maarten has to learn to cook.
Now wipe that smug grin off your face, because no matter how easy you might think it is, I suck worse at it than Die Antwoord sucks at street cred. I can’t boil a potato without killing my self or neighbors.
So! Starting tonight, I’m learning to cook. I have two burgers waiting downstairs and no intention whatsoever to take them out of my backpack before I die of starvation, so I at least made it this far already. I was clever enough (Know Thy Self!) not to have anything else edible in the house, save from dry spaghetti that seems awfully tasty right now.
Of course, this has to be about a hell of a lot more than cooking. I’ve been trying to get my act together a little lately, in an attempt to work myself of this marginal position I grew accustomed to. Sure, it’s an easy life, hardly having to pay rent for this drafty place with nothing to do but myself all day, but it only gets me this far. Literally. I keep thinking it wouldn’t be a bad idea to grow out of this some time soon, so now I’m taking the first steps. I’m not impressing anyone living on potato chips, least of all myself.