Life Happens

I’ll be on break until January unless life allows down a tad. 😉

Grumpy Says chocolate helps

For the 13 of you following my blog. Please know I appreciate it immensely and will be posting more pictures and things as soon as I can ☺️

My precious hoard of books (mostly peter pauper press)

Have a Beautiful holiday season and may the New year be the start of a new era.

A few friends passing by

Arbeit Macht Frei (English)

A Brilliant text by the very talented and quick witted LiliT. A text that makes one think. I Believe that in view of the state of the world and of certain political climates in particular, it is high time to share and look these kinds of things in the face. Home-Translated from French with permission by NikyAOD

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«All right, you can go have lunch. I expect you to be back here in one hour on the dot. And don’t forget to clock out. »

Julianne nods: she doesn’t really have the motivation to respond. She’s a bit fed up with her thankless job at minimum wage, with her boss as over-it as she is who relieves his own stress by taking it out on his employees, and with her habitual soul-crushing routine. That being said, as the bills don’t pay themselves, she doesn’t have any other choice, so she puts up with it.

Sat alone between the four walls of the shop’s basement level employee room, she turns over her memories in her mind while munching on a mustard sandwich, for lack of a better option. Remembering, that is her release. Still in her early twenties, she is left with limited choices, as far as souvenirs to be recalled… But she finds a few. Some happy, others maybe less so. Her favorites are of course her travel memories. They remind her of a past, too short, where she felt autonomous, without being crushed under the weight of responsibilities.

Her bitterness today prompts her to review her photos of Germany. Or, more accurately, a few of those pictures in particular: those of the day she visited the remains of a Nazi concentration camp, along with the rest of her group of linguistics students. The experience had profoundly troubled her. To such an extent where, under the effect of sheer choc, she had been compelled to photograph everything, so as to be able to take the time to digest the atrocity of what she had seen, little by little, by looking at the images after the fact. All her life, these photos would present her with proof that the horror she’d seen was real, and not the product of some bad dream. Her travel companions had judged her for it immediately, until she was able to find the words to explain her intention to them.

And yet…

It was clear from their expression that they remained unconvinced. Oh well, that was not the important part: the photos were verily, truly, there, uncomfortable souvenir, overwhelming proof of the inhumanity mankind is capable of, even towards it’s fellow man.

Although these images being striking, even traumatising, they were not what was haunting the young woman’s spirit the most. What made her most uneasy, was the irony of the words inscribed above the entrance. These were different for each camp, yet each time, the sentence could be interpreted two ways, as a double entendre, and sent chills down the spine of whomever realised this fact. For Julianne, there is one that etched itself in her mind permanently. «Arbeit macht frei »: Work will set you free. A seemingly anodine phrase, which instills a cruel hope that through hard work, one could better their condition. Doubly cruel when we know that the majority of deportees regained their liberty only when releasing their last breath. Then yes, once we’ve given all, until body and mind give in, work does set us free. Free from all future, from all hope.

For a brief moment, Julianne closes her eyes. With a sigh, she sends out a thought for all those who have suffered without reason. She hardly dares to imagine what those people lived through. Compared to that kind of hell, her days at minimum wage take on a mantle similar to that of an all inclusive Holiday.

And yet…

Guilty, Julianne shakes her head to extract herself from her torpor. Despite the difficulties and the burdensome, routine, she remains clothed, fed and keeps a roof above her head. She should be grateful for what she has rather than gripe, right? Her essential needs are relatively covered while others have nothing. By what right is she complaining?

And yet…

Despite the self-condemnation, a disturbing idea insinuates itself into the thoughts of the young woman. Julianne feels ashamed of it, but cannot shake it off. She can’t help but see a link between her own, apparently inescapable, situation, and the horrible human slaughterhouses that distressed her so much. As if the idea had been reprised, recycled at the end of the war, but disguised to render it more ‘morally acceptable’.  Instead of cramming the ‘undesirables’ into camps, they are backed against the wall where they are forced to give in to any work conditions, no matter how mediocre and humiliating they may be. They are placed in a position where they must renounce their dignity in order to have merely a chance to survive. And to make sure they remain cooperative, everyone else is mislead into believing that those who accept these conditions, did so of their own accord, because they are too lazy or no good, at least not enough to do anything else. This is simply not true.

And yet…

Julianne is an intelligent young woman and she knows this. She’s hard-working too. She’s never been afraid to put her shoulder to the wheel, especially when others need help. Maybe that’s the problem. Her altruistic values are, possibly, too incompatible with the capitalist society in which she is evolving. Would she be happier putting her values aside? Is that even still an option for her? Would she play a better hand, or place higher on the podium, by imitating these self-proclaimed masters of the world, individualists, ‘divide and conquer’ method defenders, preachers of the ‘each to his own’ ideology? She doesn’t think so!  She’s not a good enough liar! To avoid getting found out, she’d have to become what she hates, and that, is out of the question. Seeing things from this perspective, at least, gives her the impression of having, herself, made a decision. The cross she has to bear remains the same. The simple fact that it’s no longer quite, imposed, seems to lighten it’s weight, in a way.

Anyways. Philosophical musings will not be of much service.  Especially since time flies! Her lunch break is already almost over! She just barely has the time left to pack up her things in haste and stop by the washroom before clocking back in, if she does not want to be accused of time theft. The ironic part? A single minute late on the punch would earn her being cut back a full fifteen minutes worth of salary.

And yet, she doesn’t make the rules, so she should be content with following them. Stood before the bathroom mirror, she takes in a deep breath, stares her own reflection straight in the eyes and puts back on the mask of a, well trained, cute little zombie. Might as well get into character and play the role, After all:  The Masquerade Carries on…