Monday, October 16, 2017

the friends we didn't make along the way

It's common in internet parlance to suggest that, regarding something that was difficult or obtuse, the real benefit was "the friends we made along the way." That the connections supplanted the work and trials of whatever else came with them. Given, however, the harsh reality of modern society, such that loneliness is now, on a per capita basis, higher than it has ever been in recorded history, and that it strikes all age, income, racial, and religious groups, is both more deadly than obesity and smoking, and is increasing on a year-to-year basis seemingly without end, one might be inclined to say that, instead, the real journey was the friends we didn't make along the way.

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

Spooky Month

One finds that, upon the beginning of October, a preponderance of content relating to spookiness, fear, and death (even if lightheartedly) takes place, as many celebrate the month - given its major holiday - as a time to revel in such subjects. Many find, however, this enjoyment frustrating in that it only lasts a month, and that said subjects nominally fade out during other times of the year. However, one finds that one can always live with spookiness, fear, and contemplation of death, if one simply embraces the overwhelming anxiety and suffering of being. To that end, one could, if willing to work for it, celebrate a spooky month 12 times a year.

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

be yourself

The world tells you to be yourself, your parents tell you, ads tell you, everyone tells you but they don't tell you how hard it is to find yourself, how hard it is to find out what it means to be yourself; is being yourself doing what you love for a living or making enough of a living to occasionally do what you love, is being yourself never compromising on anything, actually, before you even get that far when do you find out? Your mind is still changing drastically throughout your 20s so how can you find yourself and be yourself when your self is constantly under attack, it takes a long road for some to find what they want and who they are and some never do, but all the same, they're told to just... be themselves.

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

letting go of what kept you holding on

When you're younger or youngish or just not staring mortality in the face I suppose you hold onto existence by the "eventually" and "maybe" and how some day something good will happen to you professionally, academically, financially, socially, whatever, you start to create fantasies early on where the novel you write gets published, or you become manager, or you save someone's life, or you retire at age 30 and travel, or you can sing, or dance, or solve an impossible equation, or fall in love, you'll figure it out. If it doesn't happen at age 18 it'll happen at 22, and then 28, and then 34, and before you know it nothing ever happened. We hold onto these things out of some malapportioned hope that they will happen and justify an existence otherwise marked by mundanity and suffering and dread. But perhaps these things drive the suffering because we keep wanting, hoping, begging for them to happen only for them to never come true. Perhaps the sooner we let go of the impossibilities that we think will make life better - the desire to be someone we're not, the things we hold out for and let drive us mad because we can't reach them - the easier it is to accept that life, as currently constructed, will never be profound.

Monday, September 25, 2017

Normal Routine

I suppose it's not a revelation to learn, eventually, that the vast majority of one's existence is spent doing things one does not like. Early years are spent in school that few children enjoy or profess to liking, its concurrent homework and bullying and social strata inflicting wounds and causing anxiety to fester. Adulthood is filled with hours at a job who most people don't like; job dissatisfaction at record highs, everyone wanting more weekend, or vacation, or what have you. Even sleep, which many claim to like, is most often a memoryless respite that, in our lack of consciousness, feels much shorter than it is, such as that even if we did enjoy it, calling it a third of our day would seem inaccurate. So we spend our existence meandering from thing to thing we don't like, perhaps wondering, how, in our collective pursuit of values and construction of society, we let happiness become such a small, finite part of our day-to-day routine.