To be, or not to be, those are the inclinations. I feel for like an
exceedingly long time, I’ve had every topic under the sun actively
on my mind, with no real way to approach them. But, alas a moment of
clarity ensued, and in a stout matter-of-factness, I’ll begin
exploring.
I think there’s an undeniable
psychological impact tied to money. Look back not 2 or 3 blogs ago
and I’m sure (maybe) I’ve made reference to or status about
having $10 in the bank and slowly picking away at the cans of salt to
eat in the pantry. Fast forward with a part time job and side jobs, I
feel like the king of the slums; this even more so because I don’t
have any debt.
I think about the projects I want to do
in the future and the potentially sickening amount of money it would
take to do them well. Then I think about the bureaucracy and greed
that positions money into the hands of powers with concerns
deliberately antithetical to mine. Then I think of the little rays of
sunshine meant to boost or disguise actual moods or perspectives
trying to reinforce that the world is still good from time to time.
Then I inevitably get stuck thinking about time, and how maddeningly
long it takes to change things even and though they will always
eventually.
Then I try to scale problems up and
down. Will I run into a lack of data, a bad philosophy, a saboteur,
the cash runs out, the timing is off, or did too many players break
too many legs? Should I focus on how I feel? How I fit? How it
translates? What I thought going into it? Is it my perspective or
intention that matters? Is it my message or what people do with it?
Is it either/or, and if not why have I resolved myself to something
so obscure?
I rely on cause and effect. Just as
being broke was my choice, an inevitability of listening to the sick
feeling in my gut at the idea of applying to be told to ring out
drunks and move boxes from one end of the room to another, taking the
cash and “stumbling” into various other opportunities were
choices as well. I haven’t cured what I feel; I simply pick what
I’m going to do about it.
I’m not necessarily worried, but I
think this is going to get me in a bit of trouble. When I stop
feigning a concern for the consequences, well, practice something
long enough…I feel I will be more explicit in petty things and more
aggressive in things that matter. The trouble is simply picking up
all the ruffled feathers.
I think I’ve adopted the ultimate
freedom in “winging it.” I’ve been trying to analogize this for
weeks. Absolute control of reckless abandonment. Steering the stream
sweeping you along. Resolved to the infinitely possible. Real hippie
shit, right? But in a weird way, I feel I give myself more room to
wiggle by constraining myself to different aspects of my previously
peripheral worlds. I don’t know if they felt so suffocating because
they’d grown unfamiliar, or if I hadn’t had a chance to
experience them with the hat of new experience. Reliably, I don’t
feel complacent.
The idea of an “infinite consequence”
intrigues me. It would hint at a purpose, maybe even a soul. I think
some of my moral sensibilities stem from a concern with this idea.
Why I sneak in a good deed for a random stranger from time to time.
Why I’d like to believe I’m only corruptible to a certain point.
I wonder if there are real capacities and propensities more than just
probabilities. Are we doomed to be stupid and evil and inventing new
ways to draw cartoons face palming? Or is that just the most likely
from the context? I’m so disturbed by context.
