Shit happens

Shit happens
While at school, I wasn’t too good
with the experiments as I was with numbers, which prompted me to choose the
profession which I eventually did.
But that never stopped me from
always pondering over Newton’s three physical laws of motion, which my physics teacher
thrust upon my head, that they together laid the foundation for classical
mechanics.
I wasn’t really keen to decipher the
mechanics part, but what surely interested me was that it described the
relationship between a body and the forces acting upon it, and its motion in
response to those forces.
Candidly, I even didn’t apprehend
what he intended by “body” when my teacher professed having made me comprehend.
 My imagination surely ran wild though,
as I figured out that human anatomy was certainly not what he meant.
The mind is a wild horse which is
destined to run freely. It loves to run fast, wildly chasing first this
thought, then that sensation and then on to the next bit of stimulation and on
into the sunset it runs, I had learnt.
And I was no goliath to tame the
wild horse of my mind. I would allow it to buck around a lot, uncultivated and
feral.
Undomesticated it ran, and
discovered yet another law of motion that Sir Isaac wouldn’t have imagined; a fourth
law which was based on my imagination of the “body” and the “forces” acting
upon it.
Loose Motion
can never be done in Slow Motion
Though thrown out of the classroom
for audaciously and intrepidly announcing and proclaiming my discovery, I found
it my opportuneness to be “out” rather than “in” which facilitated me to “get in”
quick, whenever shit happened. And whenever it happened, it rarely gave me any chance
to recoup, retrieve or recover, which made my conviction even stronger that
loose motion can never happen in slow motion.
For me, hell breaks loose, when it
happens and it is not just any other increased frequency or decreased
consistency of my bowel movement. Simple medical terms in English as diarrhoea
or dysentery seem French to me, as I understand the language of only those
growls in my bowels.
For me, it is those piteous and
pathetic moments, when the inevitable happens without me being able to
circumvent or stop it.
For me, “shit happens” is a term of commiseration;
a feeling of pity or sympathy, in its true sense.
The religiously intolerant
fundamentalists can have an unparalleled debate on what “shit happens” would
mean to their beliefs. I have heard a few of them:
  
Hinduism:
This shit happened before
Catholicism:
Shit happens, I deserve it
Islam: If
shit happens, take hostages
Buddhism: If
shit happens, is it really shit?
Judaism: Why
does shit happen to me?
Protestantism:
Shit will happen if you pray hard for it.
When the fundamentalists cry hoarse,
even the liberals have a field day:
Atheism: Bullshit!
I have concluded that “Shit happens”
is just nature’s way of explaining to us by way of a simple existential
observation that life is full of unpredictable events.
I would just use it to express my acceptance
or resignation in the face of any difficult or unpleasant situation. C’est la
vie!
I have started believing in another
fourth law. It’s the Murphy’s fourth law of thermodynamics:
If anything
can go wrong, it will.
Asi es la vida! So-is-the-life!
That’s what life is like, or simply
put, that’s life.
I am not talking shit! It’s my shit,
talking.

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