Saturday, February 11, 2017

As Lost As Possible

Recently I've been experiencing fleeting moments of clarity. New realizations relished one moment and dispersed in the very next . My last one was about Kafka's idea that writing is really self-serving or something along those lines. In trying to find that particular quote, I found another one which encapsulates my overwhelming feelings at the moment: "I am free and that is why I am lost."

I told a close friend my truth regarding my attitude about the world around me. Saying the words aloud were surprising even to myself. I did not know the words had already been ironed out in my subconscious.

My truth being the inescapable, frustrating feeling of self-alienation. An alienation that breeds apathy and resigned acceptance of uncertainty. If I don't actively convince myself to choose life, I naturally wallow without grief. Before, I believe I had deluded myself with a hopefulness about human transcendence through creation, mutual cooperation, and kindness. I fought for this as if it were my religion. Yet I always secretly knew I was only trying to convince myself that those qualities were truth in order to more easily choose life.


I still fight for this hopeful truth because I believe it is a fight worth endeavoring even in its objective futility. I struggle just as a believer with her religion. Subjectively I would argue the fight is not futile; making this choice allows me to cope. My rationale is this: because living is the most I am capable of doing, I choose to live. My new philosophy is not so much a necessity as it is a choice. In my mind, for another more courageous aesthetic fool (like Raskolnikov), it could be a choice as arbitrary as any.

For me, as a human, I like to have hope. I enjoy the permutations of life: making acquaintances, reading stories, achieving feats of abstract thought. Experiencing the sadness of heartbreak, the pain of failure, the thrill of success. Physical pleasures. Mental pleasures. Spiritual pleasures. I absorb them wholeheartedly the moment I reaffirm my choice. I must pay the price for this reflection which I cannot un-imagine and so I never live as fully as someone who never contemplates that such a choice exists.



Attempting to find absolute truth is like attempting to prove the facts of a particular system are true using the facts of the system itself (Godel's Incompleteness Theorem). I accept the uncertainty of not knowing in the same manner that I accept the concept of zero.

These words spilled out from the starting point that if I were to be fully myself, I would never say a word to anyone. I would exist as an indifferent observer, each exchange playing out whether or not I am there to see it.

Monday, January 23, 2017

Short Post of Accountability

Today passed unpassionately.

Reading The New Jim Crow has uncovered a disturbing truth that I have been blind to, or rather, ignorant of, until now. This awakening can be likened to my feelings post The Second Sex. I want to educate myself. Elevate my consciousness in order to live my life fully aware of the consequences. To keep in check my interactions with others, my consumerism, the direction I choose for my life, my words, actions, and art. To take action and speak out against injustices.

I rediscovered the joy of reading over winter break. Reading has consumed a lot of my free time but I'll try to document from time to time.

Friday, December 9, 2016

Stoning the Dam to Break

A conversation with a friend while she tripped acid was revelatory. She said to me what we might hope (and possibly already know) to be true deep down. At the core of every human is the desire to give and receive love... to understand one another. Interaction and communication is difficult and a lot of meaning gets fudged up in the process; nevertheless, our deepest nature to love exists and connects us if we let go of the mad charades we undergo to prove to ourselves our image of success. She seems to have experienced this knowledge but I could only try to feel it through her explanations. That her explanation resonated could prove she is right about our essential nature. Deep down, I already know this to be true.

My other friend has been trying to explain to me that he didn't believe competition is natural. I argued vehemently that it is, that evolution is the mechanism by which competition naturally sprang into existence. Now that two close people have told me their true feelings, maybe I am the one inclined to delusion. Maybe I'm the one whose thoughts are still clouded by, as my first friend calls it, the 'collective mythology'.

Believing that we cannot escape our tendency to compete with others is harmful because in so doing we subconsciously appropriate that tendency. Or maybe we use such a explanation to justify our selfish actions. Such a self-perpetuating cycle is a closed off one. It is almost impossible to break through to the minds and hearts of those blinded by the desire to prove their own success. Anyone who might pose a different view is weak, unable to thrive in an eat-or-be-eaten world and thus must resort to disguising their incompetence by claiming to take a higher moral ground. How easy it is to scoff any other explanation when one can say that the people serving alternative explanations have ulterior motives themselves! The competitive mindset is small yet clears every hurdle in its own shallow way. 

Choosing to believe that greed is the immutable nature of humanity serves what purpose? To further the institutions which bring us further from our full potential? What are the point of actions not rooted in love?


Thursday, November 10, 2016

Out of Phase

A shade or two of mild frustration is required to draw me back here, but if such a thing prods the words out, so be it. I have a few things to say; my lack of writing has to do with one of those things. Each day I've been waking up, computing, slipping away. My daily processes have been slowly molded by a particular way of thinking, that is, solve the problems given to me in a piece-wise motion leaving as few stones unturned as possible. After shedding the excess, I am left with only variable manipulation. This is what I had wanted, to have that mathematical mind. Now I've become unsympathetic to people in our conversations and have suffered for it.


And another thing: people always get what they want. Your subconscious moves you. Your actions cannot be helped when your priorities have been fleshed out (whether you are fully aware of them or not). My friends who desire to be well-liked by their peers receive it. My friends who aspire to the highest of academic recognition do so. Partly your talents and predispositions inspire your goals. It is sensible to conclude that you would desire something you've already acquired a taste for due to external feedback regarding your natural state, however it leans. 

I've had a couple of dreams in which I've felt absolute elation and awe. All that moved me to elation was the beauty of the space I explored. In one dream, that space was a large rectangular room with three walls made of glass partitioned into windows by thin metal rods. All three glass walls revealed that the apartment room was completely surrounded by water. The green waves of the water rolled on relentlessly round the glass room but I felt no fear. The atmosphere was serene and powerful. 


In my dream last night, I met a lonely, unattractive woman who showed me her beautiful home. She had a gorgeous bedroom in a long room overlooking water with three different pianos lined up against the wall. She had a dining area resembling a Viking hall filled with long wooden tables and benches. Her living room was breathtaking, exquisite, spacious, light. A chandelier glittered light throughout the house. The light reached to the end of the white staircase. 

I was confused in my dream because the woman shared nothing about her opinion on the space in which she lived, or at the least she seemed bored with it. I took photos of everything but none of my photos saved. When I spoke to the woman, she was detached, evasive, and very sad. Deep down I felt that I was using her to relish in the beauty of her abode, but she tolerated me because I was company. However, even these reservations did not prevent my excitement. Soon a party broke out, guests filled the house, and the beauty of the place could no longer be captured on camera. I knew that none of the people at to the party cared about the woman. Truthfully, neither did I. These dreams have led me to wonder the possibility that, as shallow as it may be, what my heart wants is to experience as many beautiful spaces as I can. 

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Contemplations {2}

Meditation or mundanity
Not an "on" but an "or"
To say two words
With the same meaning

In every corner there exists
Some existents just existing
Calm eyes, furrowed brow
Inner wisdom to accept
Reality over ideality


Unhappiness only exists
In the heart and the unstable mind

Ignorance or wisdom can be the source of that stability
Zen... a thin line of separation

A mentality centered and content on comfort is incompatible with a mind set on yearning for more. Can these opposing viewpoints be reconciled within one person?


Idealistic persons can subject themselves to struggles abstracted to the point of delusion.

Why must every thought be commodified? So a private recollection is better. Therefore, be content with anonymity... which is the truth of human individual life anyway. So I commodify filtered nonsense to bridge the gap. Of course such compromises lead to inner conflict and pointless musings that shed light neither here nor there.

To be alone and happy is to be free.


Of course, discontentedness is unavoidable when choices have to be made.

The passing of time enforces decisions willingly or consciously made or not.

The joy attained from both visual / bodily experiences and the bliss of solitude are equal.

I cannot only absorb, I must also construct.

Who am I but a vision of a vision from a stranger?


Spaces in my notebook mark the passages of thoughtless time.

Being able to recognize disgruntled, unhappy people-- dissatisfied only due to their unappeasable, rigid, demanding thought processes-- marks the first ring overcome. Step out of the second ring.

Only when you realize that you don't automatically owe anything to anyone can you begin to give yourself authentically.

Keep your life uncluttered in terms of things and not thoughts.

Sunday, July 3, 2016

1/2-way Reflections in San Diego

I am not sure what has kept me from logging these passing days. Maybe I have been too tired to think after work. The weekends, however, rejuvenate me completely. I am changed from my last post. I admit I fall easily into the whims of a book. That inertia I dwelled on in life and in my previous post still exists at a small level, but I am fighting against those inclinations using the revelations from reading Simone de Beauvoir's The Second Sex.

I am fighting immanence at every step, or at least trying to. I am growing into myself more and more each day. I feel powerful. I feel that reading The Second Sex has unlocked a new way of thinking for me. I am more aware of the psychology behind behaviors and then human nature seems so lucid when put under rigorous analytical prodding. Seeing this lucidity is refreshing. Breaking down the "mysteries" of human nature somehow makes every action we take not too terribly important, and so I myself am liberated in my thoughts about everything.


Beauvoir has not only elucidated the oppression of women throughout history and provided for me a mindset by which to take initiative in my life (to assert myself as individual, essential, active being seeking transcendence) but she has also showed me the power of research, logic, analytic thought, the drawing of conclusions from evidence. She presents information as rationally as a mathematical proof; I love it.

Living on my own has been one of the most exciting things I have done. I have had the pleasure to meet super cool and interesting interns from all over. I have learned a lot from them during the fun times we have shared. I relish all of the opportunities I get to make decisions about my time. This unique atmosphere has challenged me to think about my place in the picture. I feel a strong desire to arrange my future so that I can continue to have these amazing experiences.


My work is low stress because I essentially get to work at my own pace, which is nice as hell. The blessed combination of few responsibilities and almost absolute freedom makes me feel lucky. Whole. Independent. I am thriving in this existence. To ensure continued growth, I vow to both focus on doing that which brings me the freedom I currently am experiencing and to take nothing good for granted.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

A Peeling Away

Although I am not done reading The Book of Disquiet, I feel changed by the insight of each essay. Pessoa pens something I have always felt but could never say. Bernardo Soares (and Pessoa, obviously) manifests to the extreme the inner monologues I have failed to articulate. I understand thoroughly the nature of my pursuit of isolation. My renunciation of action. My weariness of having to exist at all. On one level, I could say it is from the fear of missing out as mentioned in my previous post. On a deeper level, maybe my lack of motivation is due to the consciousness of the futility of it all.

The narrator's deeply internalized, repetitive variations of his thoughts breed new layers in my mind. I've always been wary of sounding so unhappy in these posts, but I can't seem to flee from exposing myself a little bit. Everything I write is affected, simply by the fact that others can see what I have written.


I live only partially. I constantly vacillate between the desire for renunciation and the desire to conform. The former is almost impossible without building impenetrable walls that would guard myself from succumbing to the tedium of action and life. The latter cannot be achieved without much pain due to the consciousness of consciousness which I can never escape, for the psychological arrow of time points in one direction.


I felt a moment's ignorant ecstasy after an excursion with others, but that blind happiness fell away when my natural state came to, when the distraction of ruminating on the experience faded away.

Bernardo's inertia resonates with me. The words ball together, lightly coating my bottom lashes. I have felt what it feels to suffer only because one is aware of one's suffering and not from the source of the suffering itself. I understand the words he writes because we speak a common language as members of the same species who spend their days internally dreaming.


Those who seek isolation, even at an early age, may not be able to articulate why. When they purposefully seek it when they're older, the dopamine rushes that were rarely felt existed so far away in their memories that those memories could barely be considered on par with figments of the imagination. The rushes never felt could never be missed.

An awareness that all constructions are but chemical rushes, induced in the act of coexisting and living blindly like animals is brought into sharp relief. In this realization, one has to remove oneself in order not to feel nauseous. One's pursuit of isolation becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Ten steps forward, because this is for me and I am not eloquent and I need rest. How do I move on when I know I will receive no answer?