Question everything (?)

Typo on my name, usual thing. I’m not upset, though.

Those are the words written alongside the signature given by a famous book/poets writer whose workshop I attended yesterday.

Questioning. I do that a lot. Ever since I was a kid. I even remember that there was a time when I seriously asked my dad why he got more than 2 children, it’s against what the government suggest, and that decision only impaired the economic condition of my whole family. Why does he get me, the fourth child of four anyway? [No, I will not elaborate the answer in this writing.]

An interest in questioning everything has existed at the beginning in my life, huh? Not only that, I remember that I ever questioned whether this world is real and not an illusion. Well, that runs in my blood I think, because at that time, I was discussing about how the world may not be real with my older siblings. I even was skeptic enough to accuse that maybe my siblings were only the reflection of my thoughts and the only thought that is alive or can decide on its own was mine; everything just rotates around it — fancy thoughts, eh.

Questioning things may be nice, because it feels nice to know how something works, to predict something correctly, to know things that can benefit/harm you, etc. Think about “will I bring my umbrella today?” That question which may sound simple is often quite relevant in our lives, I think. If I ask that, I’m actually measuring things: there’s a chance that bringing umbrella will benefit me because it will rain, or not bringing umbrella will benefit me because I will be carrying less weight.

Now, imagine if the questions pop up like inescapable pop-out advertisements you’d find on “free-download” sites — so disturbing. I actually do question everything too much that it actually feels like pop-up ads. For example, when I bring a spoonful food into my mouth, I think about why Indonesians adopt to use spoons instead of chopsticks (maybe because the Dutch and Portuguese ruled so long?), the last time my family bought a plate, the research that shows eating while watching TV will make you eat more because you don’t hear yourself munching your food, how can people agree that the rice has to be cooked with water, and more random “not-that-much-related” things.

Do you guys also think this much when doing something superficial?

Oh no, I just raised a question again...

[I know that people often described this as overthinking, but it sounds so negative that I refuse to stick that label to my condition.]

At one point, I wished that I could think less (and therefore question less). Things won’t bother me that much if I don’t put much focus to it. If I was not conscious enough that such problems existed, I can become happy 😄. I won’t bother to feel frustrated whenever I can’t find the answers while at the same time those questions keep popping up in my head. And besides, perhaps more applicably, I won’t feel threatened too, because I won’t know (and won’t give a damn) whether someone gives me mistreatments or undervalue me. Well, I would take that choice to think less, definitely, only if I was never this conscious before. But personally, I think time travels will be bad, because time is not meant to be traced forwards, it can only be traced backwards. Human mind, even though superior enough to rationally think, is not enough to handle that monstrous possibilities that ‘might’ exist in all those parallel timelines that ‘might’ exist.

So, I take back my words, I wish nothing changed from my past (well, even though I kind of wish I could be more strong-willed much earlier; or maybe choose philosophy instead of psychology as a major? Haha, kidding). It’s just the friggin reality that I have to bear with a smile. No, really, I am not that laidback or relaxed when I say that. Imagine that I say that line with an upset tone

It’s just the 
friggin
reality
that I
have to
bear
with a smile 
— now, that suits me better.


And then what? Inconclusive writing? I don’t think so. This writing is intended to convey that sometimes, no result is a result. No conclusion is a conclusion. [No abstract is an abstract? Of course not, it’s a lame pun that only some people can relate, don’t take this too far.]

At last and at least, at this time, this writing is showing the things that I could comprehend and digest about current happenings at this moment. It feels nice being able to sort out this chaotic stormy thinking into a presentable manner.

So in the end, would I stop questioning everything?

hEY, that’s a question 😉


Note: this writing is somewhat inspired (or triggered) by Lala Bohang’s The Book of Questions, where questions are answered with questions.

2017. August. 6

— LALG