Friday nights are depressed,
Saturday nights are for thinking.
Sunday nights are stressed,
Monday nights are for drinking.
Just a little poem I thought up that applies to my weekends. Well, 3/4 ain't bad, right?
Saturday, May 7
Friday, May 6
Oh yes. I'm Emo. Emo like a FOX!
Have you ever been depressed to the point that all your actions just seem lethargic? Sometimes you collapse in your chair as music or the TV flows in and out of your head, probably only making the situation worse as you think, "I should be doing something" but the will to move is not there. Then you have to jerk yourself into action and the momentum carries you through your next series of actions.
It's especially prevalent on weekends, when I lie in bed, my mind in its weakest state (This is generally when hormones dominate. My conscious sexual thoughts almost always come on days when I have no obligations, and I just lie in bed, not motivated enough to rise. I think thoughts I feel ashamed of almost as soon as I finally become motivated enough to shake the stupor and begin the day's rituals. It's not that I don't have sexual thoughts outside of this weakened state, I do. I am human. But the distinction is that on these mornings I don't bother fighting them.) I lie in bed, knowing that I've slept all I need to sleep, knowing that my day is wasting, knowing that my life itself is wasting, and come to think of it that's probably not helpful in the motivation department, now is it?
And now, I look outside myself and see the depression and realize a quick jolt will get me out of it. I wait, though, for some reason. Why would I do such a crazy thing? Already I can feel a bit of life stirring. It just takes the realization of what is happening in order for me to have the ability to shake them, why don't I? I don't know.
I blame Communism, really I do. It's like "We're all for the ho's, yo" and I'm like "Fo'shizzle, you be trippin' Communism." Then Communism gets all in my face with its redness and I'm like "Man, you ain't got nothin' fo real" and Communism gets upset and starts crying, so I have to console it and then we go out for ice cream. You can see my dilemma.
So, the real question we're all ignoring is, did it work? Exit polls show a slight majority going with the incumbent, but one can never trust such dastardly excuses for good statistics.
Well, did it?
It's especially prevalent on weekends, when I lie in bed, my mind in its weakest state (This is generally when hormones dominate. My conscious sexual thoughts almost always come on days when I have no obligations, and I just lie in bed, not motivated enough to rise. I think thoughts I feel ashamed of almost as soon as I finally become motivated enough to shake the stupor and begin the day's rituals. It's not that I don't have sexual thoughts outside of this weakened state, I do. I am human. But the distinction is that on these mornings I don't bother fighting them.) I lie in bed, knowing that I've slept all I need to sleep, knowing that my day is wasting, knowing that my life itself is wasting, and come to think of it that's probably not helpful in the motivation department, now is it?
And now, I look outside myself and see the depression and realize a quick jolt will get me out of it. I wait, though, for some reason. Why would I do such a crazy thing? Already I can feel a bit of life stirring. It just takes the realization of what is happening in order for me to have the ability to shake them, why don't I? I don't know.
I blame Communism, really I do. It's like "We're all for the ho's, yo" and I'm like "Fo'shizzle, you be trippin' Communism." Then Communism gets all in my face with its redness and I'm like "Man, you ain't got nothin' fo real" and Communism gets upset and starts crying, so I have to console it and then we go out for ice cream. You can see my dilemma.
So, the real question we're all ignoring is, did it work? Exit polls show a slight majority going with the incumbent, but one can never trust such dastardly excuses for good statistics.
Well, did it?
Tuesday, May 3
The Demon Emo
I hate the word "Emo." I believe it originated in music, but now it has come to encompass most any showing of emotion (mostly in the love/depressed spectrum) and generally has negative connotations. While it's true some people take them too far (A great deal of modern music drips angst to the extent I mentally writhe in pain when I'm exposed to it), trivializing all emotions with a derogatory label is just another step towards the spiritual void we're already slipping into. I'm half a Romantic (old school emo, look it up), so I guess I am bias, but I still hold to my belief that emotions, even of the depressed and regretful nature, are not inherently abhorrent. They should not be holed up inside where one only feels shame from having them.
While, in an ideal situation, one could twist his perspective to a positive, optimistic position on every issue, it's simply unrealistic. I can see the good in most things, but I can also see the bad. Ignoring one or the other is just a form of delusion. Recognizing the negative and elaborating on its consequences is not some despicable act. The reason many journal entries/music/art seems to be negative is because it's something that people feel they need to express and in some way expel. Happiness requires no outlet.
I don't know, Lee suggested my existential rants only serve to exacerbate my depression, but I'd argue that only numbing my mind or fogging it with love or enthusiasm are the only ways to avoid it. The more I wax existentialist, the more I think I understand, and the better I can write it. I think I can get across the existentialist angle quite well in my more creative endeavors (two in the novel so far). Of course, I try to demean it as I go because it is an ugly philosophy, but that doesn't mean it's not darkly beautiful.
Ah well. Off to bed. One final note to self: You're entirely too stressed. That is all.
While, in an ideal situation, one could twist his perspective to a positive, optimistic position on every issue, it's simply unrealistic. I can see the good in most things, but I can also see the bad. Ignoring one or the other is just a form of delusion. Recognizing the negative and elaborating on its consequences is not some despicable act. The reason many journal entries/music/art seems to be negative is because it's something that people feel they need to express and in some way expel. Happiness requires no outlet.
I don't know, Lee suggested my existential rants only serve to exacerbate my depression, but I'd argue that only numbing my mind or fogging it with love or enthusiasm are the only ways to avoid it. The more I wax existentialist, the more I think I understand, and the better I can write it. I think I can get across the existentialist angle quite well in my more creative endeavors (two in the novel so far). Of course, I try to demean it as I go because it is an ugly philosophy, but that doesn't mean it's not darkly beautiful.
Ah well. Off to bed. One final note to self: You're entirely too stressed. That is all.
Sunday, May 1
Duncan-esque
No, not King Duncan. I mean the infamous David Duncan. I'm still reading up on Ayn Rand (I'll probably rant more about that sometime in the near future), but it's leading me on a philosophical journey through wikipedia onto different philosophers etc. Who knew engaging one's mind could be enjoyable? (David, apparently. By the way, I have 6 windows open now. David usually ends his library sessions with 12, so we'll see how this turns out). Anywho, I wanted to post a "brief insert" from an entry about David Hume taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Hume:
"The Problem of Induction
We all think that the past acts as a reliable guide to the future. For example, physicists' laws of planetary orbits work for describing past planetary behavior, so we presume that they'll work for describing future planetary behavior as well. But how can we justify this presumption – the principle of induction? Hume suggested two possible justifications and rejected them both:
1. The first justification states that, as a matter of logical necessity, the future must resemble the past. But, Hume pointed out, we can conceive of a chaotic, erratic world where the future has nothing to do with the past – or, more tamely, a world just like ours right up until the present, at which point things change completely. So nothing makes the principle of induction logically necessary.
2. The second justification, more modestly, appeals only to the past reliability of induction – it's always worked before, so it will probably continue to work. But, Hume pointed out, this justification uses circular reasoning, justifying induction by an appeal that requires induction to gain any force.
The problem of justifying induction remains with us. Hume seems to hold the view that we (as well as other animals) have an instinct-like belief that the future will resemble the past based on the development of habits in our nervous system, a belief that we cannot eliminate but which we cannot prove true by any kind of argument, deductive or inductive, just as is the case with regard to our belief in the reality of the external world."
I found it amusing because I unfortunately follow determinism, the doctrine which states that free will does not exist because the future is merely a result of the past. Hume rejects this completely for the reasons stated above, but it is interesting to note that with the above in mind, one can be of two mindsets:
1.If you believe Hume's arguments, it isn't logical to believe that one can use past results to predict the future, ie even though David Sugue is standing right next to you and you are wearing a low cut top, he will not necessarily look at your boobs.
2.Or you can disregard Hume and say that yes, past events can be used to predict the future and David most certainly will stare at your bosom, even ifthat bosom belongs to one Derek Bast. That means you should follow determinism.
Just food for thought. David, eyes up here! I feel dirty...
Edit: Heh, read the article and you'll see I predicted the argument that followed (I hadn't read the whole article when I posted before). Creepy, eh?
Oh, and this will blow your mind: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cogito_ergo_sum
"The Problem of Induction
We all think that the past acts as a reliable guide to the future. For example, physicists' laws of planetary orbits work for describing past planetary behavior, so we presume that they'll work for describing future planetary behavior as well. But how can we justify this presumption – the principle of induction? Hume suggested two possible justifications and rejected them both:
1. The first justification states that, as a matter of logical necessity, the future must resemble the past. But, Hume pointed out, we can conceive of a chaotic, erratic world where the future has nothing to do with the past – or, more tamely, a world just like ours right up until the present, at which point things change completely. So nothing makes the principle of induction logically necessary.
2. The second justification, more modestly, appeals only to the past reliability of induction – it's always worked before, so it will probably continue to work. But, Hume pointed out, this justification uses circular reasoning, justifying induction by an appeal that requires induction to gain any force.
The problem of justifying induction remains with us. Hume seems to hold the view that we (as well as other animals) have an instinct-like belief that the future will resemble the past based on the development of habits in our nervous system, a belief that we cannot eliminate but which we cannot prove true by any kind of argument, deductive or inductive, just as is the case with regard to our belief in the reality of the external world."
I found it amusing because I unfortunately follow determinism, the doctrine which states that free will does not exist because the future is merely a result of the past. Hume rejects this completely for the reasons stated above, but it is interesting to note that with the above in mind, one can be of two mindsets:
1.If you believe Hume's arguments, it isn't logical to believe that one can use past results to predict the future, ie even though David Sugue is standing right next to you and you are wearing a low cut top, he will not necessarily look at your boobs.
2.Or you can disregard Hume and say that yes, past events can be used to predict the future and David most certainly will stare at your bosom, even ifthat bosom belongs to one Derek Bast. That means you should follow determinism.
Just food for thought. David, eyes up here! I feel dirty...
Edit: Heh, read the article and you'll see I predicted the argument that followed (I hadn't read the whole article when I posted before). Creepy, eh?
Oh, and this will blow your mind: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cogito_ergo_sum
Friday, April 29
Is it hot in here?
Well, I figured it's been awhile so I'll make an actual rant/journal entry.
Today's been an eventful day. Not in the sense of monumentous activity, because I generally don't bother writing about that. I mean it's been eventful in my mind. As you may have guessed, this means I actually thought today. I was doing research for my parody of The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, and I really started thinking about her ideas (you don't have to have read the book to get something of a grasp on them). The main character, Roark, is her ideal man. He lives to create for his own sake, unconcerned with the feelings or whims of others. "Invidualism" I think it's called.
It's an interesting idea. I see a lot of myself in Roark, and I also see a lot of myself in the arch-villain Toohey (the deceptive, "compassionate", power hungry man who relies completely on others to accomplish his goals). Obviously, like my existentialism and romanticism these traits are in conflict. I want to not need people, and I want to be able to be content on my own without the approval or favor of others. Yet, if I live solely for myself, what's the point to living at all? I suppose one could try and be completely satisfied with one's self. I just don't see how you can do that and not get trapped in existentialism, eventually deciding there's no point and expediating the inevitable.
So you take the opposite route and try to please people. It's an arduous task that you must constantly work at maintaining. Their approval shifts from day to day, and so too would your emotional state. I can feel the tide myself: The high produced by enducing laughter, the low that creeps in as you continually fail and are looked at with a kind of sad disappointment. The only way I can avoid it is by escaping from everyone so I don't feel pressured to do something positive.
And then you come back to the first part of the argument about living for yourself. The reasons I persist in this ludicrous endeavor of life are 1. I can't find a suitable method of death and 2. It would cause too much pain and suffering to others to be considered acceptable. It's kind of sad, isn't it? My life isn't bad or anything, for the most part. I'm just not capable of the stablility to make it be good.
Unlike Roark, I genuinely care about people. Although I sometimes wonder how much of the care is of a parasitic nature. Certainly I empathize with others, but it often seems destructive in a way. I sort of push my mental dialogues upon them, and they're taken quite unawares. Of course, I'm looking for another perspective and would like them to do the same in return, but it's really not the way things are done. I also have almost a perverse interest in the dramas of others. I don't pry, which is odd, but when emotions are in play I'm generally rather interested. It's almost as if I feed off the passion I feel I lack. I dunno. Just thoughts.
Speaking of passion, though, there does seem to be one thing I am genuinely intrigued and interested in: writing. I may think about my online game a proposterous amount, but I never feel as charged and excited as when I'm thinking about my next novel. I've practically fallen in love with the idea. There's the rub, though, it's just an idea. I lack the commitment and sustained drive to write it the way it deserves to be written. I'm doomed to mediocrity of my own making. I'm afraid of failure, as we all are. When you work so hard on something only have it rejected... It's like a rejection of your self. You don't want polite" good job" 's. You want sincere "beautiful" 's. I never want someone to tell me they liked something in order to be polite. When they tell me something, I want it to be the truth.
Once again, this relies on the whims of others which will most often lead to ruin. I could write this novel (meaning the next) solely for myself, I suppose. If I did this, though, it would be even more difficult to ever find the will and impetus to actually carry it out.
I saw the Crucible today, and surprisingly enough I wasn't envious of the actors or the play itself. It was mostly emotionalism, the message fairly easy to understand. I did sort of want to be up there acting, but I reminded myself that I'm incapable of acting. It's not the "I failed the test but ended up getting a high B" mentality. It's just the truth. I can't effectively act. No loss. I've got writing, right?
I think I can learn from Ayn Rand. All things in moderation.
Today's been an eventful day. Not in the sense of monumentous activity, because I generally don't bother writing about that. I mean it's been eventful in my mind. As you may have guessed, this means I actually thought today. I was doing research for my parody of The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, and I really started thinking about her ideas (you don't have to have read the book to get something of a grasp on them). The main character, Roark, is her ideal man. He lives to create for his own sake, unconcerned with the feelings or whims of others. "Invidualism" I think it's called.
It's an interesting idea. I see a lot of myself in Roark, and I also see a lot of myself in the arch-villain Toohey (the deceptive, "compassionate", power hungry man who relies completely on others to accomplish his goals). Obviously, like my existentialism and romanticism these traits are in conflict. I want to not need people, and I want to be able to be content on my own without the approval or favor of others. Yet, if I live solely for myself, what's the point to living at all? I suppose one could try and be completely satisfied with one's self. I just don't see how you can do that and not get trapped in existentialism, eventually deciding there's no point and expediating the inevitable.
So you take the opposite route and try to please people. It's an arduous task that you must constantly work at maintaining. Their approval shifts from day to day, and so too would your emotional state. I can feel the tide myself: The high produced by enducing laughter, the low that creeps in as you continually fail and are looked at with a kind of sad disappointment. The only way I can avoid it is by escaping from everyone so I don't feel pressured to do something positive.
And then you come back to the first part of the argument about living for yourself. The reasons I persist in this ludicrous endeavor of life are 1. I can't find a suitable method of death and 2. It would cause too much pain and suffering to others to be considered acceptable. It's kind of sad, isn't it? My life isn't bad or anything, for the most part. I'm just not capable of the stablility to make it be good.
Unlike Roark, I genuinely care about people. Although I sometimes wonder how much of the care is of a parasitic nature. Certainly I empathize with others, but it often seems destructive in a way. I sort of push my mental dialogues upon them, and they're taken quite unawares. Of course, I'm looking for another perspective and would like them to do the same in return, but it's really not the way things are done. I also have almost a perverse interest in the dramas of others. I don't pry, which is odd, but when emotions are in play I'm generally rather interested. It's almost as if I feed off the passion I feel I lack. I dunno. Just thoughts.
Speaking of passion, though, there does seem to be one thing I am genuinely intrigued and interested in: writing. I may think about my online game a proposterous amount, but I never feel as charged and excited as when I'm thinking about my next novel. I've practically fallen in love with the idea. There's the rub, though, it's just an idea. I lack the commitment and sustained drive to write it the way it deserves to be written. I'm doomed to mediocrity of my own making. I'm afraid of failure, as we all are. When you work so hard on something only have it rejected... It's like a rejection of your self. You don't want polite" good job" 's. You want sincere "beautiful" 's. I never want someone to tell me they liked something in order to be polite. When they tell me something, I want it to be the truth.
Once again, this relies on the whims of others which will most often lead to ruin. I could write this novel (meaning the next) solely for myself, I suppose. If I did this, though, it would be even more difficult to ever find the will and impetus to actually carry it out.
I saw the Crucible today, and surprisingly enough I wasn't envious of the actors or the play itself. It was mostly emotionalism, the message fairly easy to understand. I did sort of want to be up there acting, but I reminded myself that I'm incapable of acting. It's not the "I failed the test but ended up getting a high B" mentality. It's just the truth. I can't effectively act. No loss. I've got writing, right?
I think I can learn from Ayn Rand. All things in moderation.