What's being spoken to when we talk
about “temptation?”
My mind immediately conjures thoughts about the bible. Eve was tempted by the snake. Knowledge is tempting. “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” When you're tempted, evil is knocking at your door. The sweet sound of The Temptations is a trap to drag you to hell.
Can it be rephrased? What if instead of being tempted, you're taking a chance. Significantly less insidious. It can accompany a boyish charm as he pursues his sweetest gal. Could be a job opportunity you weren't sure about, but may pan out better than you hoped. We play games of chance for fun. Does this make is it too nice though? Temptation is tied specifically to vice.
You're tempted to eat shitty food when your blood pressure is already too high. You're tempted to drink a little more because the first 6 went down so easy. Maybe this time you'll tell your boss what's what. Maybe you're sad and you're tempted to ease over the double yellow line and just see how this thing plays out. It's about falling off course to a range of varying destructive ends.
So what established the line you're diverging from? My mind shoots back to religion. Knowledge is only a temptation when you're a blind follower. Institutionalized ethics does so much of the work for you. Perhaps one can imagine the person with no inclination or conditioning who's never felt tempted. They just do or they just are. What to make of their moral code?
In attempting to constantly establish and then undermine myself, I find it hard to categorize myself in the language of temptation. I just do things. I'm fairly aware of why, even if I rarely manage to prepare myself for the fallout. Well, my preparation is to go dead inside, which is sketchy at best. I know I'll always be able to write about it, but there are moments where the worst thing you can do is focus your attention absolutely on such a degree of sickness in the mind.
If I were to try and put my behavior in the language of temptation, it's always pretty ridiculous and shitty things to do. I could be tempted to actively pursue, very insincerely, every person I've ever found remotely attractive. I could be tempted to eat a cheeseburger for every meal. Perhaps I'm tempted to keep cutting out “friends” for one, likely defensible, reason or another. Those are all pretty straight forward and not serving much a purpose beyond building a hollow throne of obscenity to sit on.
I've been tempted to be comfortable.
You might be aware that my normal is, let's think of a proper way to phrase this, maybe a bit on edge? Shit pisses me off. I can't turn my brain down. It keeps me from sleeping unless I'm exhausted. It keeps me from forming too many close relationships. I drive myself insane reading and go so far as to spend a few thousand dollars so I can better organize my hate into poignant, hilarious, and despotic takes on the world. I don't meet a single person who sees me out having fun or hears about the money I've squirreled away who doesn't give me the same kind of response. “I wish.”
I've achieved what, presumably, a number of people would consider comfort. I'm certainly not uncomfortable and constantly reinforce the idea that every problem I ever have is less than first world. The thing is, I adopted my disposition for a reason. It's a kind of creative motivation. Whether it's to come up with new jokes or mash different areas of life together, you don't really do that when you're content to sit around for months at a time watching TV. When you write quasi-moral proclamations about how most everyone you meet is a moral and intellectual failure, you really need to have something to point to that separates you from the herd. So I've taken the smallest amount of pride in being the cow inching toward the back gate, anxious as fuck, angry no one is following my “pssst” noises.
I actually used the phrase, “oh yeah, I forgot about lying” the other day when it came to solving some problem me and a friend were discussing. I'm not oblivious, but I've a well-worn suit of honest armor that makes me feel almost incapable of lying about, so named, “stupid shit.” Or it's a lie by silence. I can only compare it to the religious upbringing conditioning. You don't even realize the magic man in the sky story and talking snakes or being evil sinners where sex is wrong is an insane thing to think. I “just talk” in a way that takes it for granted if it's stupid, you'll call me out, if it's wrong, Google exists. But, if I'm right it's even more informative because you'll either get uncomfortable and not want to talk, get angry for dishonest reasons, or be an interesting respectable person willing to talk back.
I just think it would feel so good. What if I didn't read a single book or news article for like, 6 months? What if I knew about the top 30 games to play on your phone? What if I spent $1000 on music lessons and a personal trainer to keep me on a schedule? This in contrast to worrying about saving money for land, having the funds for the map, or any of the other things I keep in the back of my mind to worry about and budget for. I could just denote my hobbies, take lots of pictures and post progress videos. Maybe I just travel. I could just be normal and comfortable amassing likes as you gain the impression I've really settled into my own.
It's tempting because I think I could do it. I think about school. I sleep between 5-7AM until maybe 12-4PM. How did I get up every morning and get good grades? How did I walk across campus for 25 minutes pissed off and cold to hear the lesson? (Okay, I dropped that class) I can build the structure. I can forsake all else. It may even be good for me.
I've habituated myself to a form of existence that circumvents rules. I think at one level it's vitally important, but I don't want to destroy myself as a kind of philosophical cliché. I don't know if I'm stressed out. Well, actually I must not be given my blood pressure readings. I'm just lonely. I want to fit in better. I want to tell you everything you want to hear, and not just make it who I am this week. Sure it'd be a lie and I'd be shitting on and contradicting so many blogs and arguments. But what else do I really do with myself?
What I really have to ask myself is whether it's taking a simple chance or submitting to temptation. The fact that it feels like temptation I think tells me all I need to know. It still would be nice to fit somewhere though.
My mind immediately conjures thoughts about the bible. Eve was tempted by the snake. Knowledge is tempting. “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” When you're tempted, evil is knocking at your door. The sweet sound of The Temptations is a trap to drag you to hell.
Can it be rephrased? What if instead of being tempted, you're taking a chance. Significantly less insidious. It can accompany a boyish charm as he pursues his sweetest gal. Could be a job opportunity you weren't sure about, but may pan out better than you hoped. We play games of chance for fun. Does this make is it too nice though? Temptation is tied specifically to vice.
You're tempted to eat shitty food when your blood pressure is already too high. You're tempted to drink a little more because the first 6 went down so easy. Maybe this time you'll tell your boss what's what. Maybe you're sad and you're tempted to ease over the double yellow line and just see how this thing plays out. It's about falling off course to a range of varying destructive ends.
So what established the line you're diverging from? My mind shoots back to religion. Knowledge is only a temptation when you're a blind follower. Institutionalized ethics does so much of the work for you. Perhaps one can imagine the person with no inclination or conditioning who's never felt tempted. They just do or they just are. What to make of their moral code?
In attempting to constantly establish and then undermine myself, I find it hard to categorize myself in the language of temptation. I just do things. I'm fairly aware of why, even if I rarely manage to prepare myself for the fallout. Well, my preparation is to go dead inside, which is sketchy at best. I know I'll always be able to write about it, but there are moments where the worst thing you can do is focus your attention absolutely on such a degree of sickness in the mind.
If I were to try and put my behavior in the language of temptation, it's always pretty ridiculous and shitty things to do. I could be tempted to actively pursue, very insincerely, every person I've ever found remotely attractive. I could be tempted to eat a cheeseburger for every meal. Perhaps I'm tempted to keep cutting out “friends” for one, likely defensible, reason or another. Those are all pretty straight forward and not serving much a purpose beyond building a hollow throne of obscenity to sit on.
I've been tempted to be comfortable.
You might be aware that my normal is, let's think of a proper way to phrase this, maybe a bit on edge? Shit pisses me off. I can't turn my brain down. It keeps me from sleeping unless I'm exhausted. It keeps me from forming too many close relationships. I drive myself insane reading and go so far as to spend a few thousand dollars so I can better organize my hate into poignant, hilarious, and despotic takes on the world. I don't meet a single person who sees me out having fun or hears about the money I've squirreled away who doesn't give me the same kind of response. “I wish.”
I've achieved what, presumably, a number of people would consider comfort. I'm certainly not uncomfortable and constantly reinforce the idea that every problem I ever have is less than first world. The thing is, I adopted my disposition for a reason. It's a kind of creative motivation. Whether it's to come up with new jokes or mash different areas of life together, you don't really do that when you're content to sit around for months at a time watching TV. When you write quasi-moral proclamations about how most everyone you meet is a moral and intellectual failure, you really need to have something to point to that separates you from the herd. So I've taken the smallest amount of pride in being the cow inching toward the back gate, anxious as fuck, angry no one is following my “pssst” noises.
I actually used the phrase, “oh yeah, I forgot about lying” the other day when it came to solving some problem me and a friend were discussing. I'm not oblivious, but I've a well-worn suit of honest armor that makes me feel almost incapable of lying about, so named, “stupid shit.” Or it's a lie by silence. I can only compare it to the religious upbringing conditioning. You don't even realize the magic man in the sky story and talking snakes or being evil sinners where sex is wrong is an insane thing to think. I “just talk” in a way that takes it for granted if it's stupid, you'll call me out, if it's wrong, Google exists. But, if I'm right it's even more informative because you'll either get uncomfortable and not want to talk, get angry for dishonest reasons, or be an interesting respectable person willing to talk back.
I just think it would feel so good. What if I didn't read a single book or news article for like, 6 months? What if I knew about the top 30 games to play on your phone? What if I spent $1000 on music lessons and a personal trainer to keep me on a schedule? This in contrast to worrying about saving money for land, having the funds for the map, or any of the other things I keep in the back of my mind to worry about and budget for. I could just denote my hobbies, take lots of pictures and post progress videos. Maybe I just travel. I could just be normal and comfortable amassing likes as you gain the impression I've really settled into my own.
It's tempting because I think I could do it. I think about school. I sleep between 5-7AM until maybe 12-4PM. How did I get up every morning and get good grades? How did I walk across campus for 25 minutes pissed off and cold to hear the lesson? (Okay, I dropped that class) I can build the structure. I can forsake all else. It may even be good for me.
I've habituated myself to a form of existence that circumvents rules. I think at one level it's vitally important, but I don't want to destroy myself as a kind of philosophical cliché. I don't know if I'm stressed out. Well, actually I must not be given my blood pressure readings. I'm just lonely. I want to fit in better. I want to tell you everything you want to hear, and not just make it who I am this week. Sure it'd be a lie and I'd be shitting on and contradicting so many blogs and arguments. But what else do I really do with myself?
What I really have to ask myself is whether it's taking a simple chance or submitting to temptation. The fact that it feels like temptation I think tells me all I need to know. It still would be nice to fit somewhere though.
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