Oblivion

Brady Ehler, OP Contributor

Ah yes, sweet, sweet oblivion, haunter of
thought, breeder of craziness, mother of
fear. God damn you, Oblivion, you sick
bitch.

So, what is it about the concept of
oblivion that twists and molests us so?
Why is “to not exist” so frightening? Is it
that we won't have control if we don’t
exist? Is life so fantastic that a permanent
end would be tragic? Whenever these
thoughts begin to trouble me, I think of
eternity...beautiful, comforting, soothing,
crushing, choking, horrifying eternity.

 

Now, I value my life enough that the con-

cept of oblivion seems unsavoury
however, when compared to the concept
of eternal life, it seems just fine. I know it
must seem a bit harsh, but try, if you will,
to grasp eternity. It wever, ever ends. There is
no final goal, no ultimate prize to strive
for, only an endless spiralling existence
that goes on and on and on and on and on
and on and on and....

It would be so much simpler if the
human race would accept the concept of
oblivion, rather than run from it. ’m not
saying run out there and blow your fuck-
ing head off or anything, but if people
embraced oblivion, we wouldn’t be so
encumbered by religion. Maybe we

wouldn’t be so inclined to spend our lives

breaking our fucking backs to fill our
unstructured time with relentless stimuli.
When was the last time you or someone
you know went for a walk alone, without
a Discman, or a dog leash, or a destina-
tion? Most of us ate scared to death of
oblivion. We spend the majority of our
time trying to avoid it, although we have
no “proof”—other than a handful of
books filled with outdated theology from
the dark ages—to tell us that there is life
after death. Oblivion, in one form or
another, is a very strong possibility; in fact
the odds ate exactly 50/50.

Wouldn’t it just be better to accept it?
After all, it’s not like oblivion is inherently
bad, per se. Actually, it’s completely neu-
tral.

amps

 

 

 

Hot Mocha for the Soul

Rachel Schreyer, OP Contributor

I breathed in the salty ocean air. Ahh,
Victoria. Not hailed the capital of British
Columbia for nothing, it offered spectac-
ular view by the water, especially at 7am.
A seagull squawked as it soared overhead
with another bird, both of them leading
and circling one another under the morn-
ing sun.

Shhh, the waves whispered. This was a
reverent time. Life was just awakening.
Shifting backwards, I crossed my legs and
felt the log beneath me creak. The morn-
ing serenity of the beach never ceased to
amaze me. This was my refuge, a place to
think when life got too loud. I wrapped
my fingers tightly around my mocha with
whip—still steaming—and slurped in a
combination of the sweet cream with the
brawny brown underneath. The heady fla-
vor left a sugary kiss on my lips before it
caressed my tongue and slid luxuriously
down my throat. Decadence at its finest.

The waters lapped again, inviting me
to wade in. I stretched lazily and declined
the offer. Disappointed, the waves reced-
ed. Splashes of gold, pink, and purple in
the sky had already yielded to clear, bright
light. I licked the corners of my mouth,
curled my toes in the grainy sand, and
downed some more coffee.

Pillow-like clouds passed by slowly.
The fluff of white drifted in my coffee.
Instead of taking yet another sip, I stared
intently into my cup a la Nostradamus.
Would the secrets of the universe be
revealed unto me here? The mound of
lopsided whip formed a face, with twin
furrows and a slightly turn-downed
mouth. I squinted at the hollow eyes and
dared them to tell a story. They melted a

hovember 8/2001

little, leaving a blurred and slightly trailed
edge.

Was it crying? Why was it crying? Was
that an omen? I leaned forward, right up
to the brim, determined to find the mean-
ing of life in a cup half left. Hmm, come
to think of it, life is never fair. The guy at
the coffee shop didn’t give me enough

to arrange itself. His tweed jacket was out
of place; his pants, too short. He had to
take another step for me to realize that he
had a severe limp. His right calf swung
out abruptly moments before the heel hit
the sand, creating an awkward-looking
step. His gait resembled the screeches of
an out-of-tune violin. I wondered if it

 

whipped cream. Maybe I should go back
and complain.

The sound of approaching footsteps
interrupted my thoughts. Feeling slightly
intruded upon—this was my quiet time to
contemplate existence, after all—I looked
up in annoyance. I met the warm brown
eyes of a thin, middle-aged man with a
prominent nose, a square jaw in need of a
shave, and messy gray hair that had failed

hurt him to walk.

He grinned while staggering forward,
“Beautiful morning!”

“Yeah,” I tried not to cringe and avoid-
ed looking at his legs, “Gorgeous
sunrise!” I was curious about his condi-
tion but figured it would be rude to ask. I
smiled at him instead.

“Oh, most definitely. Nothin’ like a
start to a day that, y’ know. Sets things in

perspective,” he halted and flashed me a
set of slightly yellow teeth. “You have a
wonderful day now, miss, take care!” He
wheezed and struggled on painfully. I
winced as I watched him.

The soothing, rhythmic waves soon
drowned out the sound of his laboured
footsteps. I swallowed and glanced down
at my perfectly functional, well-formed
legs—legs that I’d take for granted when
boarding my morning bus, grocery shop-
ping, or simply pummeling the pavement
for a quick jog when stressed. This man
was handicapped, yet joyful. If I were to
trade my appendages with his, even for a
day, I’m not sure if my attitude would
match his.

In my cup of coffee, still half-full, the
whipped fluff melted a little more,
smoothing out the frown and giving way
to a smile. It bobbed peacefully within the
round parameters and nodded with
understanding. Musing, I took another
sip; I chose to see the frown—and the
frown delivered. Somebody else was able
to see a smile through a trial. I think I can,
too.

We humans have a funny way of see-
ing only what we want to see. I guess that
makes life a little easier for us—but it can
complicate things too, A seagull, out of
sight, let out a jubilant cry and took flight.
I stood and stretched, wiggled my toes,
and slipped my healthy feet back into my
sandals.

Downing the rest of my coffee, I
looked out into the ocean and gave thanks
for the many unnoticed blessings that
were in my life.

DUnEPPPess | 8