From my experience, belonging to a group and having its acceptance has always been a lazy excuse for not thinking nor forging your own way in this wilderness we call life.

Being cast out forces you to grow, it forces your mind to expand and make critical decisions.

The most important of those being, “Who am I?”, “What are my values?”, “What makes me happy?”. Like it or not, you are probably not going to get answers to those questions by toeing the company line. You are not going to be fulfilled by spending the rest of your life going along with what the group says.

Most people are idiots. They are as deep as a puddle and as healthy to draw nourishment from. You would do well to avoid taking heed from the person on the street. Instead you should take steps to ensure that you yourself are the arbiter of excellent.

Something that springs to mind. I was doing some errands when I had the misfortune of hearing this particular ditty. “I had kept my Lopata on the office chair, when a foreign worker sat on it. Naturally I could not wear that again, so I threw it out”.

The ethnicity of the worker is irrelevant. What is pertinent to the discussion is what it says about the person who said it, and what it says about those who nodded their heads in assent.

It is possible to live without a collective identity. All you need are a few friends who share your views.

I mean, let’s talk about being a Maldivian. I have never felt like a Maldivian In my entire life. For long have I felt like a perpetual foreigner, wandering around these small islands, always in discontent. I wonder if it has to do with intellect. I read somewhere that the dumber you are, the happier you are. One of the disadvantages of having a high IQ is that it tends to come with diminished social skills. I am unable to bark empty platitudes on command.

I once tried to go along with the herd. I repeated my false opinions, or rather I tried to. My throat constricted and my stomach turned into knots. In bed that day I had headaches and nausea.

Want another example? You are familiar with Jumhuri Maidhan. Foreigners use that place for evening get-togethers. A person was saying that it was almost exclusively filled with non-Maldivians. “Good for them!” I thought to myself. If Maldivians are not using the park and its grounds, then someone else may get some use out of it. But the complainer dissented. “We are losing our culture and our values!” he shot back. What values? I thought to myself. The values which state that dating a foreign worker is something to be ashamed of? That was one of the complaints he had as well. He complained that it was a sad sight that Maldivian women were just walking hand in hand with foreigners now.

Is this a perpetual case of “sour grapes”? I never felt accepted in a particular group, so am I just like that fox? Am I complaining bitterly about being excluded? I don’t believe so.

There is nothing wrong with a sense of belonging. What is wrong is the reliance on a herd at the expense of individual thoughts and opinions.

Nothing but heaven itself is better than a friend who is really a friend.
–Plautus

Imagine this, a young boy was praying along in a mosque, when out of the blue, his mind switches to one of the Super Nintendo games his friend brought a few weeks ago. It was a 16bit 2D side-scrolling submarine game.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! went the torpedo as it fired towards its enemies. BOOM, Kablammo! Underwater explosions filled the screen. I was lost for what seemed to be five minutes in my imagination, when I came back to my senses. Wondering how long I had been lost in thought, I quickly glanced around. “Not long” I thought to myself and sighed in relief.

That was when the moment struck me. I remember thinking to myself, “If praying is supposed to be this great, awe inspiring thing, why the hell am I fantasizing about a video game. This is bull shit.”

I made a decision then and there, to give up on religion.

Hip hop, flip flop, on your rocker and over the top. I focused my little mind and said to myself, “Forget about religion. Forget about the Quran. Forget this little annoyance known as Islam and everything you’ve been forced to memorize”

And it worked.

I do not know how to pray. I do not know how to read Arabic without the symbols on top and below. I do not wish to go on the Hajj. I do not remember the Shahadath.

Cowabunga Dude!

For most of my life, religion has been about a holier-than-thou fool prattling on in Mosques and on T.V., and an even more annoying asshole in Islam class. Say what you want about the T.V. guys, but at least you don’t get graded.

I was quizzed about my beliefs by someone sometime ago. He was quite insistent on getting to the crux of the issue, which was “Did I pray regularly?”. Smiling out of embarrassment, I said no. With a serious expression on his face, he asked “If that is the case, then where will you go when you die?” “Heaven” I said unhesitatingly.

See here is the thing. Even though I have forgotten all the tenets of Islam, I still believe in god.

I believe in the big guy in the sky. I believe in an almighty space daddy. In this respect I differ from the “accepted” view of atheists and and dissenters.

I could never find it in my heart to actually let go of god. I could drop religion like a hot potato, but never god.

I read stories about random Wahabbies fucking up shit all over the world and I sneer in contempt. I read skeptics magazines and evolutionary biology and nod in agreement. But the one belief that has never been shaken is that there is a god.

So there you have it, my fine babies. I am too cynical to be a believer and too cowardly to be an atheist.

It has to do with the cynicism and the Schadenfreude that seems to permeate this country. It seems that whenever something bad happens, there is always an asshole or two waiting in the wings to make fun of it. To make light of it. To take pleasure in the evil that has befallen on someone.

Whenever something bad happens, I react.

I know I should not allow it to get to me, and I know that I should just shrug it off. But the point of the matter is this. I cannot.

I try to fill my heart with hate, to harden it beyond all reproach, but I am not one of those people. I am innocent.

I am not one of those fools who would willingly do evil, or allow it to be perpetrated by those I know, just so some low-brow can feel a temporary surge of self-esteem and confidence.

I am innocent, I cannot abide the cynics and the vermin that ambulate on the streets and dwell next door as our neighbors.

Unlike most Maldivians, I have never been able to master the trick of keeping my face blank, and going along with the status quo. So you can see the shock I feel, drawn forth across my face.

You can read my face rather easily I am afraid.  It is not a very masculine trait I admit, wearing one’s emotions on one’s sleeve. But the alternative is to be a toady little suck-up and I cannot abide such behavior.

The strong and silent archetype seems to be the preferred default for someone of my stature, but that seems to boring and verbally non-erudite. The default for someone who is an average idiot seems to be cussing and strutting.

You know what really fucks me up? The fact that we tolerate these fools in our presence.

There are currently two-thousand-one-hundred-and-fifteen Maldivian blogs online. Mine is the newest.

I was an old hand back in the day, but my cowardice got the better of me. Never again.

I am Kevin Blyton. That is not my real name, for my name is something that is personal to me and hence will not be shared.

The reason I started my blog was simple. I can either take steps to fulfill the madness that goes forth along my mind, or I can wail in despair.

I choose to write.

What shall I write?

Anything that springs to mind.