Nicky. In. Progress.

–and something about design, writing, being an art student and whatnot

Bored and Abroad, Week 1: An Essay By Vermin

So school finished last week, and I’m free! Holidays until 7th January, but my plane ticket home is 5th December (My bad, wrong date choice), so I’m stuck in Singapore with all the time in the world. Nice 😀

I was never one to remain unproductive, and though some days will be filled with indulging myself with books, I may do a few projects by myself. Things I’ve done this week?

  • Bought Kafka’s Metamorphosis (& other stories), read a few of his contemplations and Judgment, of which was way too advanced since apparently, I couldn’t grasp 100% of it
  • My lovely girlfriend went home, now I’m bored, abroad and without a girlfriend by my side D:
  • Cleaned 50% of my room, and real cleaning this time, meaning no shoving things where I can’t see them. I sorted out my books and magazines and plan to read at least 1 a day
  • Wrote “An Essay by Vermin”, just in a fit of writing. May or may not be nice, but I don’t care, all that matters is that I wrote something (instead of, I dunno, playing videogames all through December? *cough*)
  • Thinking about… well, what projects I would do

So yeah, no projects of note right now. But since there’s no projects to post, I’ll just copy what I wrote here.

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An Essay By Vermin

Writing down my frustration against seemingly religious people who do lots of little evil deeds, whereas I avoid them but I am (feeling like I’m) labelled a God-hater. May be offensive to some, but that’s just how I write, especially if it’s just for the sake of writing: Unrestrained.

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Many beliefs employ a reward/punishment system, where the virtuous are given eternal life and happiness, while the wicked writhes in an eternal plane of suffering. A few of these beliefs, or at the least its believers, also employ what could be defined as a point system. To summarize: “Do this, rejoice in heaven. Do that, burn in hell.”

According to the system, the various actions one may take throughout one’s lifetime have a point value to them. Though imprecise, made complex by various factors such as culture or personal background, there is at least a range of values an action may provide. The idea of assigning a number to an action that determines the rest of one’s afterlife might irk some, but if not numbers, at least consider the difference in severity of the deed. Murder most definitely gives a huge point deduction, but immoral thoughts may only bring one closer to damnation by a one or two steps, if not mere inches. Numbers or not, one cannot deny that there are at least big value actions and small ones, lest Adolf Hitler would lie in the same resting place as a 5-year-old who broke his great aunt’s porcelain vase.

The first problem rests in the system itself, for if it was invented not by man but God, there would be no inconsistencies. Currently, minor infractions (theft, dishonesty) and minor kindnesses (tolerance, sympathy) carry a wide range of values, some varying between positive and negative values (such as sympathy being pity without action, which could very well be, in some ways, evil). If points are varied, then who is to decide its value once tallied? It’s argued that the bible or other holy texts would provide an answer, though its worth noting that in the bible, God had smite men for masturbating, but let live mass murderers (who in their defense, murdered by order of God).

Second is the implications of this point system, for it isn’t written down solely by a team of angelic statisticians, but more transparently, people. All people have a sense of the bad or good in themselves or others, but for non-believers of the judgement or the afterlife, this only extends as far as knowing who to associate with and what to avoid. A means of survival, of avoiding potential hazards in bad people and rewards in the good. For believers, the point system confers to one’s fate after death, and whether or not one chooses to think about it is trivial. One is never in full control of one’s thoughts, therefore segregation based on the point system is inevitable, yet this is still not unlike the non-believers. One would still conjure thoughts of heaven when thinking of Mother Theresa, and associate Vlad the Impaler with the fires of hell without fail. This is because Mother Theresa and Vlad the Impaler are icons of absolute good or evil. The real danger is the segregation of normal people, one’s own neighbors, one’s own kin, a prejudice against the seemingly good or seemingly evil, causing misunderstandings and conceitedness.

Yes, conceitedness. Even conceited non-believers are not as conceited, as the conceited believers who proudly raise their ideals with both hands in the air, chanting songs of praise, but at the same time looking down from their imaginary podiums at other believers, or in their eyes, faithless, conceited vermin. Conceited believers, who do not necessarily make up the majority of the believer population by any means, who band together in their collective naïveté to hear the words of a man claiming to recite the word of God without question, without considering the possibility that this mortal man is in no way an absolute good, even a lowly messenger of an absolute good. Conceited believers who, due to their faith in the word of God, believe they’ve earned a substantial pile of points that can never be taken away, forgetting the fact that any word, be it the word of God, can easily be twisted to become as vile as the word of Satan, should it be passed through a forked enough tongue. Conceited believers who, before they even reached this far down this passage, had probably averted their eyes in disgust, stepping on the sewer rat before its filth and disease mucks up their bread, their wine, their perfectly white robes. Conceited, perhaps even willfully so, feeling safe from on high, feeling it impossible for them to commit great evils because they are so close to great good. Little did they know, the one may never escape the potential for evil. In their precious point system, the system that had sustained their pride and safety, they forget. A mountain of points are easily whittled away by the tiny gnawing insects they let live, the tiny evils they fail to notice. The tiny evils that the entirety of mankind may fail to notice.

For you see, I am vermin. I call myself vermin, for in a world supposedly governed by an absolute good and its children, the believers, I am but a lowly vermin in comparison. The believers also call me vermin, for unlike them, I do not believe, at least in the traditional sense of the word. Like vermin, I do not sing songs of praise. Like vermin, I do not care for my fate anywhere past the longevity of my species and myself. Like vermin, I am constantly afraid and alert. But, as filthy as vermin are known to be, I am wary of the tiny insects that gnaw on my skin, lest they give me their disease, or perhaps add to the disease I am already burdened with. I gnaw back, and rid myself of the tiny insects, and laugh, albeit concernedly, at the white robed believers, whose insects have burrowed deep into their skin, so deep that they freely lay their evil eggs on the fresh unprotected skins of new believers. It reminded me of the robed I find down here, awash in sewage, abandoned there at the sewer floor by the other robed, covered with the many tiny insects that had long since grown massive, calling forth the dozen other vermin who gladly pick off the no-longer-tiny morsels off bloodied skin. It reminded me of my first trip to the sewers, my welcome to the vermin world.

I despised the robed, and share this hatred with other vermin. Some might say this makes us no different, equally conceited. We are vermin to them as they are to us. This is true, they disgust us and we disgust them. The difference is we are also disgusted of ourselves, in the sense that we do not live in the delusion that we are clean, and as long as the robed continue this delusion, then we shall continue to entertain them. Yes, robed, we are vermin. We are disgusting evil creatures who do not share your love for a absolute force of good. Yes, robed, we do not have as many points as you, therefore are very much at risk from damnation. Yes, robed, we are vermin, and will continue this charade until you accept. Faith does not give points, simply believing won’t save lives or help others. Conceit does not give points, as your prejudice against what you deem evil is more evil than what you assume them to be. Ignorance does not give points, as in your race to reach divinity, you fail to see the elderly woman trying to open a door, the earth choking on the garbage of your excess, the heed of concerned friends whom you chose to ignore. Yes, robed, we are vermin, but the thing about vermin in we survive even in the most tarnished of worlds. You, robed? Unlike vermin, unlike the people you call vermin, you will sit comfortably on your imagined throne without realizing, that in the years you’ve left the insects free you’ve fed them your flesh, your skin, your bone, the entirety of your human self. You will sit there no longer a white robed child of good, but a pile of insects, blood and sinew as dirty as the sewer rats you once stepped on.

The point system is not flawed, it is perfect. The various actions one may take throughout one’s lifetime have a point value to them. Though imprecise, this is irrelevant, as you need only the difference between good and evil, and not the numbers they posses, be it small or large. Be warned, there may be no reward/punishment should you reach a certain threshold of points, positive or negative. No light to bathe you, no fire to burn you. Should this turn you away then I need not repeat what sort of person you’ve become, but should you gladly accept the fact that you may have invested a lifetime gaining as many points as possible, while keeping the insects, the evils, big or small away from you, then I welcome you with open arms. I welcome you to this place equally wonderful and disgusting, where its tenants can care less about a second world when the one they currently reside is in shambles, where tiny insects are not ignored, big insects not forgotten, and in so doing, become content in the simple act of fending them off of others and yourself. Welcome to the place hated by the robes. Welcome, to the vermin world.

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One comment on “Bored and Abroad, Week 1: An Essay By Vermin

  1. Pingback: Bored and Abroad, Week 2: The Bachelor Pad « Nicky. In. Progress.

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This entry was posted on November 22, 2012 by in Randomness, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , .
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