It’s an odd duality being an utterly
motivated drifter. Am I lazy, waiting, or both? Does it make sense to
try and scrape together labels and descriptions when your ever waning
conception of reality settles upon the word “is?” Maybe it’s
not about what you do, but the level of fulfillment you get from
engaging in it. And if that’s the case, I’m again dually blessed
and screwed. I find that when you talk long enough, you’re able to
justify anything. I hope I manage to describe instead of just talk.
What does it mean to force yourself to
do something? Is it pushing against a previous moral concept? Is it
submitting your will to power? Is it convincing yourself that what
you’re doing is actually what you should or wanted to do all along?
In any event, you’re fundamentally changing what it means to be
yourself in that moment. Is it “buckling down” or breaking your
own knees? Is it finally realizing or mental exhaustion? No
will to keep up the fight, the line in the sand, the previously hard
fought and won conception of reality that’s sustained until this
point.
It’s one of the things that infuriate
me about some old people and every dumb ass. The same mind that locks
in how it works is the one that traps it there. How are you supposed
to know the difference between trapping yourself and actually getting
a grip on things? Obviously, so far my answer has been to simply
decide. The reality that extends so far is in your mind, but that
doesn’t seem like all the justification it needs.
So maybe that reality should be
punctuated with ideas like “don’t harm others” or “plant a
tree.” Common sense under a catch-all umbrella of good to thus in
turn make us feel good; or some of us anyway. Then you leap into
questions about what is harm, do they “deserve” it, how selfish
are you being in your caring nature, public perception verses
reality…it never seems to end. And surely you’ll find someone
along the road to justify and chime in precisely when you needed them
the most. Surely that’s “helpful.”
Maybe, and this
would go along with no free will, we’re supposed to listen and wait
for our cues. Also in line with the “is” conception of reality,
that all you need and want to know is right here and always will be,
you just need to find a way to access it. Which, on our way back to
free will, presumably you could choose to do so. Or at least have the
fog of potentials make you feel as if you had.
I’m really only excited when I get to
show off. It was pure joy being the “smart kid” K-5. All that
mattered was that I was recognized for doing better and being faster
than everyone around. The closest opportunity I’ve had to that
again was with the coffee shop. School homogenizes and commoditizes
education and personality. I didn’t need 15 years in school to know
my grades didn’t matter. I didn’t need insecure power tripping
authority figures to set me straight, but that’s all that was
offered. Stick the one “well-meaning super caring” teacher crap
back up your ass.
Back then wasn’t knowledge for the
sake of knowledge. It was recognition and praise for exercising my
brain. It paid. Maybe I just got addicted to that at a young age.
Maybe now I don’t regularly practice an instrument, or read as
often, or really do anything to the kind of hyper obsessiveness I
used to, because no one is noticing. Or if they do, they notice it
like a YouTube video. But, as the hero with a fix, I can’t just
drop the craving; I need to do something bigger, faster, and louder.
I need to make a scene that takes me outside of myself. I need to be
something that can hardly be explained if not for the collective
neurosis of all these blogs.
There just doesn’t feel like a
fucking point otherwise.
