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First republish of several OG scribblings pieces

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_drafts/2016-10-07-one-life--live-it.markdown
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title: "One Life. Live it."
date: 2016-10-07
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![](/img/1*gVlp1MBV6TcUVUboCMdTIQ.jpeg)Photo credit Viktor Forgacs via <https://unsplash.com>**One Life. Live it.**
The proposed existence of an afterlife is irrelevant to this current existence, in short.
There are two main possibilities. Either the afterlife exists, or doesn’t. Let’s take possibility one, it doesn’t. Well, presumably if it does not, after you die, you just cease to exist. This sounds scary at first, except by definition it…cannot be. If you have ceased to exist, you therefore **cannot **be aware of the cessation in your existence…by the very fact you have ceased to exist. So, thereby if the afterlife doesn’t exist, it doesn’t matter.
The other possibility is naturally that the afterlife does exist. And if it does, you will acquire the knowledge of its existence upon entering it. And so, the question of the afterlife doesn’t matter in this possibility, because it will be answered when it is most important.
There is no point spending this life worrying about the next.
This theory does have a number of caveats, such as the concept held by many religions which is that you must live a good life in order to pass to the next. Firstly, everyone should be trying to live a good life in the first place, irrelevant of the consequences an afterlife might bring. Secondly, this life is certain. The next is not. (discarding for the sake of brevity ideas about The Matrix)
Furthermore, what kind of supposedly omnibenevolent God/Supreme Being would inflict *eternal *suffering and torment in return for *temporary *sins in this world? What sin could one commit to deserve literally infinite suffering?
*“The only thing you can really control is how you react to things outside your control”* — Bassam Tarazi
*Originally published at *[*blog.aronajones.com*](http://blog.aronajones.com/2015/11/why-afterlife-should-it-exist-doesnt.html)*. Redited (heavily) to improve clarity.*

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_drafts/2016-12-16-facts-not-faith--or-else.markdown
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title: "Facts not faith. Or else…"
date: 2016-12-16
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Sometimes, I wonder how people can possibly deny the facts of climate change. Then…I remember that there are still those that legitimately believe, in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, that the Earth is flat.
Yes, that’s right. There are people on this globe (particular choice of words here very much intentional) that genuinely think that the Earth is flat. To give some context as to how ridiculous this truly is, the Ancient Greeks not only knew that the Earth is a sphere, but calculated its radius to within 0.16% of the current satellite measure accuracy. The concept of a flat earth is a pre-scientific one, and yet the belief is held **by some **to this day.
Put in that context, climate change deniers seem slightly less ridiculous. Only slightly, mind.
*“Great A’Tuin the turtle comes, swimming slowly through the interstellar gulf…[on which stand] four giant elephants upon whose broad and star-tanned shoulders the disc of the World rests” — The Colour of Magic, Terry Pratchett*
As observable by climate change deniers and ‘flat-earthers’ alike, humans have a strange penchant for clinging tightly to their beliefs, and being able to ignore facts to do so.
Why exactly that this is, is a question for psychology to attempt to answer, and quite outside the scope of what I’m trying to do here. Also momentarily irrelevant are the myriad possibilities that what we call fact could actually be opinion. In other words, I am temporarily dismissing the surprisingly real possibility we live in a simulation or dream (an article for another time, perhaps) for the sake of argument.
That argument is that fact is key. *“Faith means not wanting to accept what is true” — Nietzsche*
Dependence on blind faith is at best stupidity and ignorance, and at worst flat out hindering to progress and damaging. In the case of flat earth societies, it is the former. Not particularly harmful, just charmingly misguided. However, those that deny the existence of climate change, which by this point is a brute fact, are legitimately dangerous.
As I keep asserting, keep yelling into the void, climate change is real. All the facts tell us so, and yet, nobody listens to the increasingly desperate warnings of scientists. The scientists are the experts here, and yet their opinion is ignored. People think they know better than those in the know. Another oddity of the human mind. The fact is, climate change is a significant **threat to the existence of the world as we know it. **To deny it is…madness. Threateningly so. The longer we wait to take action, the worse the already catastrophic effects will be. We can’t continue this reckless exploitation for much longer. One way or another, it will come to an end. Either we choose to do better, or we **kill the planet.** There is no alternative.
I would say I’m prophesying doom and gloom…but the word ‘prophecy’ implies that the facts are not pointing overwhelmingly towards the conclusion I have just laid out above. Better to say ‘predicting’. As I have said, the facts are key.
Facts, not faith.

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_drafts/2017-01-04-writing-prompt---what-do-you-mean---it-broke.markdown
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title: "Writing Prompt: “What do you mean, ‘It broke’”?"
date: 2017-01-04
---
The sun hung low in the sky, a red swollen disk. It’s rays stabbed their way through the smog filled air, elbowing the clouds aside. All was quiet within the dilapidated and empty manor that squatted within an expansive but overgrown lawn. The soot covered brickwork was streaked with moisture, and the roof sagged in places where nagging rot ate away at the thick timber beams. It was set far back from the bustle of London behind towering hedges and ornate ironwork. A London in the grips of the biggest human revolution in history, no less. The Industrial Revolution.
Within the house light streamed through the cracked window, illuminating the dustmotes like dancing sprites. Suddenly, the peace was shattered by a whine so high pitched it was almost inaudible. Spiders across the room retreated to the corners of the intricate webs that were draped from the roofbeams, and the glass began to vibrate in the panes. The outline of a strange machine began to appear, shimmering like a desert mirage. Dust began to stream outwards away from the outline, blown by an ethereal wind. With a quiet whoosh, the outline became solid, in the flicker of an eyelid. The light still streamed through the windows, now casting light on the swirls and eddies of dust the disturbance caused by the machine had created. Light glinted from polished brass, and was captured by iridescent crystals, only to be thrown out again in a thousand scintillating fragments of colour. Upon the high-backed leather seats in the centre of the contraption sat two men, dressed in suit and tails. They looked as if they could have simply stepped in from the hurrying street outside. Except, they clearly had not.
The first utterance of the figure on the left, adorned with a towering charcoal stovepipe, was ‘Dang and blast, it broke!”
In confusion, the figure next to him, sporting a crystalline monocle returned:
“What do you mean, ‘It broke’?!”
“Exactly what I said, it’s broken. It must be, we’ve stopped far too soon”
“How?”
“I don’t know. That’s not important, we need to fix it, and quickly!”
In desperation, both figures fiddled with the array of buttons, levers and dials spread before them. A twist of a red knob produced a small bang, causing a nearby mouse to keel over from shock. The throwing of a knife switch created a shower of sparks, which ignited the tails of one of the men. Swiftly beating it out, he cried once more,
“Dratted thing is totally bust.”
“At least we seem to be in the right time period, give or take a few tens of years.”
“That’s all well and good, but how are we going to get back?”
“Perhaps we can fix it now”
That said, both figures gingerly climbed down from the seats, and began to inspect the machine.
Some time later, relative peace had returned to the house, broken only by occasional clangs of dropped parts, or muttered curses from one of the two men. The machine lay mostly dismantled on the floor. With a sudden exclamation, the monocled man grasped a shiny silver tube inset into which was a window that blazed with blue light. Twisting the cap, which emitted a pneumatic hiss, he drew the casing away, revealing the source of the radiant light. As he did this, the whole room was bathed in a clinical blue glow that burned the shadows from even the darkest corners of the room, and caused the numerous spiders to once more retreat to the furthest corners of their sticky, stringy castles. Shielding his eyes to look at the crystal itself, difficult due to the intensity of the light it emitted, he uttered an oath of dismay.
“It’s cracked! The cursed thing has cracked”
A gossamer line of jet black did indeed run through the very heart of the crystal. The man cast it away in disgust. It rolled to the corner of the room, making an almost wistful tinkling sound as it went. Then it trundled behind a half brick that had been cast aside long ago, and came to a stop. The brightness of the blue glow lessened considerably, and both men blinked repeatedly in the sudden twilight.
After a moment of silence which stretched out for a considerable slice of time, the hat-wearing man exclaimed to the other,
“Just how do you expect us to find a new quantum flux inversion crystal in the middle of Victorian London?”
“Uhm, Harrods?”
“Maybe if we wait another thousand years!”
“Bugger…”
Originally published on [/r/WritingPrompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts)

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_drafts/2017-11-27-no-one-else-will-write-it-for-you.markdown
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title: "No one else will write it for you"
date: 2017-11-27
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![](/img/1*iHGxYlxpXIB7d--iS80KKw.jpeg)Photo by [Simson Petrol](https://unsplash.com/photos/-3wygakaeQc?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)Barely minutes ago I crossed 50,000 words, the bar set to ‘win’ National Novel Writing Month. Funny how my instinct is then to immediately write yet more words huh? But these are important words.
The reason I put the word win in inverted commas above is because winning is relative. Any words you write during NaNo are more words than you would have written otherwise. One of the quotes I have stuck around my monitor to motivate me during the challenge is:
> “This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until its done. It’s that easy. And that hard” — Neil GaimanOne of the other quotes is the title of this piece. And it’s a very important message.
Nobody else will write it for you, because nobody else can. You have stories within you. Only by persevering through the graft of trapping them in words — sometimes a slog, sometimes a joy — will you share that story with the world. And it is a story that deserves to be shared.
November’s been a hell of a month for me. Working almost full time, particularly within the run up to Christmas, has been a drain on time that I’d have preferred to have used writing. I novelled on my breaks. Occasionally I novelled in the quietest parts of long shifts (Ssh, don’t tell anyone!). My motorcycle got a puncture in the first couple of days of the month. So I stayed home and I wrote, taking it as a sign. More often than I should I wrote until the early hours of the morning. I’ve battled with procrastination every minute, distracted constantly. Consumed much caffeine and sugar. All in the name of a crazy goal, one so distant and so achievable all at the same time.
Some days I wrote thousands of words. Some days I wrote barely any, or even none at all. As I got closer to the magic 50k, each word seemed to get harder and harder. I’d already written my beginning, and my end, now I had to resign myself to write the bit in the middle — not quite as exciting. But certainly necessary for my story. I persevered, and finally broke target today.
I’m dragging on here, still in the mode of frenetically scribbling. My message is simple, doesn’t need to be wrapped in so many words. Duly, it follows.
Only you can tell your story. Yes, it’s hard. If you managed to write those 50,000 words in a month like I did — congratulations, you did something…pretty insane! Even if you didn’t, irrelevant of how close you came — **you still won**.
Any words are winning words, because any words are more than no words.
Commit to your story, let it free. How long it takes doesn’t matter in the end.

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_drafts/2017-12-02-frenetic-scribblings--1--genesis.markdown
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title: "Frenetic Scribblings #1: Genesis"
date: 2017-12-02
---
![](/img/1*xQi5CSpeQ9OF-3jwR4Iktg.jpeg)*A book lies open on the table, pages blank like fresh snowfall. Ink spills like blood across the crisp cream pages. An invisible hand scrawls lightning fast. Patterns of loops and lines inscribed in the blink of an eye. Letters forming words, words forming sentences. A story beginning to unfold, told in ink black as night…*
This is that story. I hope you enjoyed that little intro snippet of fiction as much as I enjoyed writing it.
What is this? This is only the beginning of something, if I can follow through on it. Through [Nanowrimo](http://“No%20one%20else%20will%20write%20it%20for%20you”%20@aronajones_%20https://medium.com/@aronajones/no-one-else-will-write-it-for-you-cb59587ba8cc) I proved to myself that given the right motivator, I can write something every single day for a month. And I thought to myself….why stop at a month?
I’ve tried blogs in the past — lost count of how many times in fact. But this is different. This is a journal, almost. A collection of things, created by me or simply found. Dug from all corners of the fantastic maze that is the Internet. This is Frenetic Scribblings.
Maybe one will evolve over time but I won’t set a formula for what I’m going to put in this. Because I know I’ll have enough difficulty just doing it every day. There will be a little bit of fiction. A little bit of not. Quotations (I do so love them!), images and music that speak to me at the time. A slice of life, as it were.
Hopefully some of you out there will enjoy my often inane, sometimes insane ramblings. Regardless, writing every day will be good practice.
Until tommorow!
Thought for the day:
> “Not all who wander are lost” — J.R.R. Tolkien

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_drafts/2017-12-03-frenetic-scribblings--2--two-s-company.markdown
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title: "Frenetic Scribblings #2: Two’s company"
date: 2017-12-03
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![](/img/1*Qpv0EFGyo2lcV7EPYx8eRA.jpeg)I picked quite the time to start this endeavor, Christmas is a busy time at my work! But I will persevere. Though of course now I’ve found the time to sit down and write I can’t think of anything to say. Always the way I suppose.
Yesterday I started watching *Vikings. *If you haven’t heard of it, I’d describe it as Norse Game of Thrones. Which for a GoT fan and Norse mythos lover like me is just perfect.
*The early morning mist curled. An ethereal beast’s tendrils grasping at the land. Silence hugged close too, peaceful and still.*
*A powerful stench, the unmistakable signature of decay broke the illusion that all was well.*
*Scattered across the verdant fields wet with dew were innumerable bodies. Some armoured, some less so. Some almost untouched, others hacked into several pieces.*
*There was one thing they had in common — the silent, glass eyed stare that marked the passing of Deaths touch. Knight and peasant, good and evil, all was made equal in death.*
*Silence consumed. Broken only be the intermittent squawk of the feasting ravens.*
I’d put something interesting I found on the Internet here to placate the voice in my head that tells me this is an exercise in narcissism. But I haven’t had time for my usual idle browsing today, so instead.. A blog recommendation!
A lovely someone I met through Nanowrimo and who was the main inspiration behind me starting this blog —Tackfiction! Go follow her on Instagram for her awesome and very bookish blog! ([Link for the lazy](https://www.instagram.com/tackfiction/))
That’s all for now…
*Thought for the day: In motorcycling ****and in life**** — Look where you want to go*

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title: "Frenetic Scribblings #3: One is too many"
date: 2017-12-04
---
The text prompt is menacing today. That little cursor blinking relentlessly. Daring me to say something, when I feel like I have nothing to say.
I’m sure every other writer understands what I’m feeling. Better than I can write about it, ironically enough. But the whole point of this ‘blogthing’ is I write every day no matter what. So here goes.
Yesterday came a bolt from the blue.
*The calm before the storm. Still air, clouds billowing thick as smoke. Twice as dark.*
*Silence shattered. An explosion of a thousand shards propelled on the sudden wave of sound. The breath the sky had been holding was exhaled in a roar as a peal of thunder tolled out.*
*It accompanied a jagged finger of lightning stabbing downwards. Vanished as quickly as it had appeared.*
*Then another. And another. Soon the thunder hammered relentlessly like the strike of an anvil, and blades of light lashed out at the land, cloaked in squalling rain.*
Yesterday I discovered someone I know took their own life a few days ago.
I’m ashamed to say I didn’t know them well. But the news still hit like… lightning.
What does one do, now? How do you go on, without? How do you help others to carry on, in the wake?
I don’t know.
I’m not sure I will know. In one sentence, an otherwise mundane line of text on a computer screen, my entire perspective shifted.
Strange, how death leads to the re-evaluation of life. We weren’t even exactly close, him and I. But now he’s gone. And I won’t ever know him. Freight train of thought.
This is more than that, though. This is a reminder.
**One is too many.**
One suicide is far too many. And yet the actual figure is much higher.
How? How can we live in a world where people take their lives every single day?
Not just how. Why?
I don’t know. And I don’t know what to do about it. Apart from scream ‘why’ — metaphorically, perhaps literally — in hope of an answer.
Afore the inevitability of tommorow, for some not all.
> Thought for the day: “Everyone you meet is fighting their own battle, be kind, always” — Unknown

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_drafts/2017-12-05-frenetic-scribblings--4--transience.markdown
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layout: post
title: "Frenetic Scribblings #4: Transience"
date: 2017-12-05
---
![](/img/1*pqel094QFhnDClAbNh54GQ.jpeg)Photo by [Yutacar](https://unsplash.com/photos/JKMnm3CIncw?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)I’m writing this on a bus today as opposed to the trains that the last three were written on. It’s an interesting metaphor, writing on the move. Writing is a journey unto itself.
So after all that’s happened recently I had work drinks last night. Left me feeling a little worse for wear as I write this! It’s important, though. Not necessarily drinking, there’s plenty of downsides there. Taking moments to unwind, I mean. Forget, if even just for a second.
On an aside —Guinness is completely​ different to what I thought it would be looking at it. A don’t judge a book by its cover moment I suppose. Not the world’s biggest fan of the dark stuff all the same, mind!
No fiction from me today I think. Instead I have another author recommendation. [Kris Gage](https://medium.com/u/67d9cdce33af) writes so eloquently, particularly on the oh so complex (messy!) matters of the heart. I’d strongly recommend you check her writing out.
Over and out.
> *Thought for the day: Wherever you are, be all there —Jim Elliot*

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_drafts/2017-12-06-frenetic-scribblings--5--day-in-the-life-of-a-lost-soul.markdown
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layout: post
title: "Frenetic Scribblings #5: Day in the life of a lost soul"
date: 2017-12-06
---
![](/img/1*wh6yn8fIXqueJ06gYN7_Hg.jpeg)Photo by [Ashley Knedler](https://unsplash.com/photos/KvD36NRFjl4?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)I just got done cleaning my motorcycle, something I don’t do as often as I should. I always find it surprising quite how long it takes. But it’s also incredibly satisfying to have all that chrome at a high shine. A little ritual of satisfaction — like making beds is supposed to be. But I still don’t see the point in that one!
Still no fiction today. Imagination just isn’t flowing. Because I can’t get a [situation](https://medium.com/@aronajones/frenetic-scribblings-3-one-is-too-many-cf794b91b165) I know nothing about, regarding a person I hardly knew, out of my head.
Life goes on, regardless of all that happens. The world keeps turning, no matter what. That’s oddly terrifying and comforting at the same time.
In other news, I’ve been playing a lot of Darkest Dungeon. Even on Radiant (easier) difficulty, that game is gloriously brutal and unforgiving. I’m still reeling from the loss of a Grave Robber I got too attached to.
Spotify unleashed some ‘year statistics’ which I find quite interesting, being a huge stats nerd (I check my Medium stats obsessively).
![](/img/1*NHCk53WurHkTO7hg8Filtg.jpeg)That’s a lot of music. Almost 60 days in fact. It’s only recently I’ve started listening to music with regularity, and now it’s a near constant presence. Background noise. After all, it’s a great crime that life doesn’t have a proper soundtrack of its own! Besides the siren song of an engine roar, anyway. I’d love an electric motorcycle, but I’d definitely miss the glorious noise.
That’s enough rambling from me. For now.
> Thought for the day: I am exactly what they say I am
>  I stand for everything that they can’t stand — Notorious / Adelitas Way

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_drafts/2017-12-07-frenetic-scribblings--6--hear-me-roar.markdown
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title: "Frenetic Scribblings #6: Hear me roar"
date: 2017-12-07
---
![](/img/1*SqRhHoV2KQn3DJ-FP_tikA.jpeg)There’s something about motorcycling that makes it just… Fun. Even the rare (hooray for filtering!) occasions I get stuck in traffic, I’m still grinning. Sure, it’s kinda dangerous, mostly down to the lack of awareness of other drivers. And it takes your absolute focus. Perfect control. But it is truly joyous. It makes getting places fun. It is more than just a method of transport.
It isn’t all about the adrenaline. It isn’t all about dodging traffic. It is all about the feeling of alertness and connection. Of living.
I apologise for the rambling and waxing lyrical, my bike is in the shop when I really want to be riding it!
I haven’t given the day much of a chance for anything else to happen. Now that I say that, it sounds wrong. Shouldn’t be letting the day happen to me. Instead I… and you… should be happening to the day. Kick its ass!
Last night I remembered reading about 10x. I’m certainly not the first to think on the idea, as a quick Google of 10x will reveal. But it is beginning to grow on me. 10x is taking your limit, and setting a goal 10x that. Sound crazy? Good. That’s the point.
I have a couple ideas for how to 10x my life already. Some of which will be easier than others. I’d encourage you to think about how you can 10x too.
Signing off.
> Thought for the day: Carpe Scrotum (Grab life by the balls)

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title: "Frenetic Scribblings #7: In the blink of an eye"
date: 2017-12-08
---
![](/img/1*vzWzeHIePfOxPdexHmrjVg.jpeg)Photo by [Uroš Jovičić](https://unsplash.com/photos/BXOXnQ26B7o?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)Just like that, this is the seventh Scribblings that I’m writing. A whole week, gone by in a flash. That’s 12-hour shifts for you, I suppose! But in between the necessity of making a living, I still found time to write. It wasn’t particularly hard either. So I’d encourage you, if you enjoy writing — or even if you don’t but want to share — write. Write every day, a sentence or a whole piece. Nobody else will tell your story, because nobody else can.
My 3d printer has been hard at work printing a Deadpool bust knife block. An idea so perfect that I shamelessly stole from [here](http://www.instructables.com/id/Deadpool-Knife-Block/). Adapted to fit my bowie knife, rather than kitchen knives though. I’m still yet to print anything *actually useful*, but I’m having a lot of fun tinkering with it. I have some ideas for designs I’d like to create of my very own rather than just nicking off Thingiverse, but that’ll probably need to wait until the New Year. Learning 3d modelling and CAD isn’t a few quick job.
This one’s short and sweet. Perhaps tomorrow’s will be longer. Until then!
> *Thought for the day: If not now, when?*

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title: "Frenetic Scribblings #8: Science vs Superstition"
date: 2017-12-09
---
![](/img/1*zcBdrLVotBhF82HLhv1azA.jpeg)Technically still meeting my goal of writing every day — very technically though!
I’m a scientist through and through, fiercely reliant on facts rather than faith. I tend towards being genuinely against organised religion — in short because I believe it’s too prone to corruption and dogmatism. But that’s a topic for another day.
Personal spiritual belief, without all the trappings of the ‘modern religion’ and its prophets, is another matter entirely. While lack of empirical evidence and my refusal to just ‘have faith’ mean I don’t hold belief in a recognisable manner… I’m not entirely without.. Belief.
As you may know, I’m an avid fan of the Norse mythos. I wear a Mjolnir pendant near enough 24/7, and that, is the subject of this rambling and somewhat controversial blogthang.
I wouldn’t call it true belief in the Norse pantheon. But I have a little ritual involving my pendant for when I want luck. It seems to work.
But maybe that’s not the work of the hammer. Maybe it’s a placebo effect — if you believe you’re lucky you will be. That sounds far too optimistic for my usual liking, but I’ll let it slide. Suppose it’s counterbalanced by the hardline stance against organised religion!
Phew, that was a long train of thought turned rant/thinkpiece. Hopefully there’s something interesting in there somewhere. Normally abnormal service will be resumed tommorow!
> Thought for the day: A causal stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything — Neitzche

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layout: post
title: "Frenetic Scribblings #9: Winter ‘wonder’land"
date: 2017-12-10
---
![](/img/1*ScS4soya5-WJWWwh1Qf8_A.jpeg)Snow’s great, a ton of fun. Until it stops you getting to work. Then it’s infuriating. Because England is notoriously unprepared for snow, it doesn’t take a lot to bring the country to a screeching halt.
The snow is barely ankle deep. It was forecast at a 100% chance several days in advance…and yet there was no grit to be seen. And I live a couple miles from a salt storage! Winter tyres or chains are pretty much unheard of here, so cars spinning out or getting stuck is a regular sight.
As I tweeted earlier, I reckon Britain would cope better with the actual apocalypse than a couple snowflakes!
And of course, since my main commute is normally on two wheels…that was out of the question. Instead of a 10 minute drive it was an hour and a half walk. And then of course, now that I’m at work it was barely worth coming in because all our customers are snowed in!
Two lessons to be learned here I think. Quite clearly one is that Britain and its drivers badly need to learn how to handle snow. Particular as climate change continues to sharpen our winters.
The other lesson is one of perseverance. I hate not honouring commitments and the idea of not turning up to work because of a little stupid snow annoyed me.
So I put on my boots and I went to work.
It was actually quite a nice walk — and I was going at about the same speed as the few drivers that braved the roads! As a bonus, the staff party we had planned for after work is still going ahead, so that will be fun.
Until tommorow, keep warm and stay safe out there!
> Thought for the day: A river cuts through a rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence.

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title: "Frenetic Scribblings #10: The Balance of Things"
date: 2017-12-11
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![](/img/1*gOf7zbB_WYZkR1mu-nAQ8A.jpeg)Entirely from personal experience — no basis in any kind of fact or science — life is balanced. Good and bad, equal. Good deeds have a bad counterpart or side effect and visa versa. Maybe it’s not true. Probably, in fact. But it seems that way.
In less words, life is a rollercoaster.
It doesn’t mean good isn’t worth it. On the contrary, it’s all the more so. Good is always worth it.
On a similar note, I’m a born cynic. But I’m also beginning to realise that sometimes cynicism holds you back. Sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith instead of always planning for the worst.
Though planning for the worst is good. Almost as good as seeing the future in fact.
That was an odd mix and match of sections of my life philosophy. A philosophy in a near constant state of flux. But with some core, unshakable values. Honesty being utmost.
Inspired by Gibbs from NCIS I sat down and wrote out a life code for myself. I’d encourage you to do the same. But also — don’t be afraid to rehash and edit those rules as you change and grow.
Or don’t. At the very least, think. Step back and think about your life philosophy. In the meantime, see you tommorow!
> Thought for the day: Without the darkness we’d never see the stars.(Yes, I know that’s a quotation from Twilight of all things, but even a broken clock is right twice a day)

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title: "Frenetic Scribblings #11: The power of the routine"
date: 2017-12-12
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![](/img/1*tO6yh-odg-YDLazUQ6FWVQ.jpeg)I’ve added reading to my daily routine. Several articles on Medium per day, and I intend to re-add reading fiction to the mix too. Every day.
Not only has this helped me think critically about my own ideas, and indeed discover things I just didn’t even think about, its rewarding in that it has been just plain interesting. Life is a constant search for knowledge and reading is a highly efficient way to borrow other people’s!
The most crucial thing that reading every day has resulted in, however, is the ability for me to write every day. Reading and writing are a feedback loop. If you want to write, and write well, first you must read.
But reading a lot won’t instantly make you a great writer. Becoming great at anything, regardless of how much natural talent you were gifted with, requires practice. It requires hours and hours of beating on your craft, honing. Your skills.
Not just writing, anything of importance. Make time for the things that matter, every single day. Soon they’ll become as natural - and as easy — as breathing.
Signing off.
> Thought for the day: George R.R. Martin — 'A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.'

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title: "Frenetic Scribblings #12: On politics, general and personal"
date: 2017-12-13
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![](/img/1*IusHlMlJi09EvSlO_3YCYg.jpeg)Photo by [Warren Wong](https://unsplash.com/photos/bh4LQHcOcxE?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)Politics is always a thorny subject, often avoided at dining tables and dinner dates everywhere because of the friction it can cause between people.
The thing about politics is that it is intrinsic to all of our lives, like it or not. At the end of the day, politics is simply…people. Politics is the interaction between each of us, and between us and society. Between societies, regions, countries. Perhaps one day, between planets.
People feel strongly about politics because politics is, quite literally, life. Broad categorisations like ‘right’ and ‘left’ serve to increase a tragic ‘Us and Them’ mentality that is endemic in today’s society.
Humanity is humanity, every one of us valuable. The sooner more people realise that — if they ever do — we can start to move forward as a species. Think of what we could do, if we’d stop blowing each other up for a second. We’d quite literally reach for the stars.
That said, if I had to label it, I suppose I’d be left leaning centrist. But then again on some thing’s I’m undeniably and outspokenly radical.
Libertarian ideas about individual autonomy within the context of one’s own life are attractive to me. But so are traditionally socialist ideas about a societal safety net and communal good. Equally, the usually conservative proposition of a lean, anti-bureaucratic government is something I strongly support. An eclectic mix of different views, somewhat ‘cherry-picking’ of policy. But based on fundamental and unifying principles of logic and compassion. Dogma and tradition for its own sake have no place in my world view.
Then are my more extreme views, as aforementioned. I often entertain the idea of a technocracy — a government wherein the experts of each field don’t just advise, but govern. It’d be impossible to implement, particularly with today’s rise in anti-intellectualism, but it’s a nice thought.
More radical still are my transhumanist tendencies. I feel we have a duty, as a species, to use all in our power, all the technology we have created, to improve ourselves and our surroundings. Particularly, the eradication of disease, the utmost of these being (physical) aging and death. A view I am quite aware is strongly controversial.
This loops back to what I said earlier — labeling politics is just like labeling people. Outmoded, and not fit for purpose.
As I said in a recent post, and will reiterate now, it’s also crucial to keep re-evaluating your own views. Listen to the ‘other side’ and what they have to say. Respect them despite their differences.
Unless they’re a literal Nazi! Most things are relative, circumstantial. A handful of things are absolute wrongs. Genocide being one of them. I cannot in wildest imagination conceive a scenario where someone might deny that. Can you?
That got quite long, longer than I was intending. That’s politics for you.
Stay critical, stay civil!
> Thought for the day: Pericles — ”Just because you do not take an interest in politics doesn’t mean politics won’t take an interest in you.”