ennui

  I just finished reading Michael Muhammad Knight’s Journey to the Centre of Islam . It is not often that a book brings me to tears, especially one without a fictional narrative. Knight’s memoir is a journey seeking the end of Islam through several ‘Muslim’ countries. Beginning in South Asia, home to the largest Muslim population in the world, Knight experiences a religion practiced with all the indigenous eccentricities one might expect, with many practices predating the arrival of Islam to the subcontinent. His journey goes through Syria and Ethiopia before culminating in Hajj. There are several Islams and Muslims on display in the book. Their beliefs and practices are at times mutually unrecognisable as stemming from the same theology. Knight himself seems to believe (and decry) several Islams and be several Muslims. I have often wondered what it is like for a person whose entry to Islam was not through institutionalized instructions that begins before you acquire sentience. T...

  What does it mean to say self-consciousness is an expression of desire? Does that mean to be acutely self-aware is incredibly narcissist? When there is one piece of cake left on the table, looking at it constitutes for me an expression of desire. I look around the room to see if such desire manifests amongst the rest. There is a point beyond which everyone’s collective reluctance to be the person who acts on that desire reaches critical mass and you just know it is going to sit there for the rest of the night. I do not know how everyone perceives this. I know I am weighing my desire to eat that cake against my desire to maintain an image of mine in the minds of those around me. I do not know the details of this image; I do not even think they would register me going for that slice, let alone draw conclusions from it. I would not. The only thing I know for sure is that a not dissimilar thought process goes through the minds of the rest of them. Of course, I am also weighing other ...

  Are stories narrated better in first or third person? In my brief time playing computer games, I could never stand first-person shooters. The only perspective that made sense to me was third-person. I had to be able to see the playable character as if he too were removed from my agency. I think in a story, first-person narration is more honest about the reliability of the person telling you the story. When you read something where the pronoun ‘I’ features a lot, you are conditioned to imagine the narrator might be wrong about a few things. A third-person narrators carries a veneer of objectivity that is not necessarily borne out in the way the story is read. The story is still told from the partisan view of the person deliberately choosing to share it. By externalizing their own person from it, they supply a level of ostensible disengagement that is supposed to make us trust them more. It is not unlike a news headline that clearly wants you to read it one way while not wanting to...

  I was reading an old journal entry recently. I describe myself as being a stranger to my own emotions. I think the idea is of an escapism inherent in observing your own life as if a you are not a participant. It manifests very clearly when I am uncomfortable. Every time I am talked about in the presence of people I do not want to reveal myself to, I default to an acquiescing smile. I might also interject with harmless quips that offer nothing. I can see myself from the outside; I am trying to appear palatable without leaving an impression. I am whatever they want to project on to me. Whatever values they feel most comfortable imputing. This deep-seated desire to avoid being known (or even perceived) goes back almost as long as I can remember. I have always wished for a measure of anonymity before feeling comfortable with the idea of being myself. It explains, to an extent, my proclivity for running away from excessive familiarity. Not so long ago, I found myself wondering if it...