Swallowed Alive
At this point in time, I'm trying to get my certificate to be an environmental inspector for the toilet otherwise referred to as New Jersey U.S.A. Part of this process demands that I sit in a room for 7 and a half hours, listening to various well-dressed professionals, all of whom are required to pack vast quantities of information into the overstuffed brains of prospective health inspectors/ticket writers/pencil pushers/permit authors.
It's an arduous drag, for obvious reasons..but to add insult to injury, it feels like such a waste of time. There's nothing more immediately absurd than the realization that one is not actually learning anything, but rather being force-fed bits of information to throw up on a test at a later date. As we're tested on a weekly basis, there is also a consistent pressure pushing down. There aren't any letter grades to shoot for when taking the weekly quizzes though..and while on one hand that keeps things a bit more straightforward (Pass or Fail), the satisfaction of "doing a good job" is absent.
Two months ago I graduated from college with highest honors, but that fact was only satisfying for a day or so..and it was only satisfying because it suggested that I might have a better chance at being doomed to receive a higher paying job. It is highly difficult to abstain from analyzing things like "good jobs" - things which are to be taken at face value as being deeply satisfying. They are easily broken down to the degree that they are revealed to be (typically unpleasant) distractions. And, just like every other distraction, their significance is really hard to permanently kill in the mind. The struggle that emerges between the self-aware nature of the analysis and the will to silence the analysis often results in a state of deep conflict and depression. As it is 2015, I am expected to take prescription drugs so that I might accept it, and get on with the program. But even supposing there was no pharmaceutical element at play, society would consider the conflict to be a temporary setback in the quest to achieve stability.
And that really bothers me...
This conflict cannot be overcome by re-programming the mind to think in purely materialist terms. All attempts to return to some past state, at which I was entirely consumed by bullshit speculations on what to wear the next day, how to make people like me more, what I should be doing with my life as based on my age, etc, are all easily extinguished..supposing they actually arise in the mind. While I can entertain the notion that I am able to suppress any and all analysis, perhaps utilizing the "Stop Thought" technique, it seems that the least stressful approach allows that analysis to occur..suspending the argument of free will and following the train of thought straight into self-inquiry (giving up, so to speak). That being said, letting go of the attachment to that process is difficult..because it's part of being human.
I can't really regret being born because there was no decision to be made as to whether or not to come into existence. Also, I find it impossible to hate my parents for wanting to engage in basic mammalian impulse, and I feel empathetic upon considering the evangelical Christian programming driving their hooking-up behavior. The whole ordeal seems to be a shit sandwich nonetheless. And to clarify...it's not as if I know something important that no one else does; I've merely reached a point at which I've engaged in hyperanalysis and hyperobsession over my existence. This hyperobsession is natural for me, and it is merely the subject of obsession that is new. In the past I was typically obsessed with falling asleep, or mishandled social situations that occurred in the past. In this case, the anxiety that arises is existentialist in character, and the sense of feeling doomed is tantamount to being smothered with a pillow. Unsurprisingly, the mind gets lost out there, witnessing and analyzing such an abstract conflict. There is no solution to be had, however, and when the night comes on, and I climb into bed, I truly have trouble accepting the entire ordeal.
I am often determined to temporarily banish my existence in the "real world." I catch relief when I feel I am living a dream (one among many). The waking, sober life is incredibly stressful and the returns are pathetic: just enough money to afford shelter, nutrients, and cheap vices..in addition to a mountain of bills that can be semi-stalled supposing you're a real smooth-talking motherfucker (which I am not). My brain is desperately seeking an escape route, as I near the shackles that are fated to confine me. The perceived separate self is all kinds of confused; plans range from "let's deal with the problem" to outright moments of "fuck it! -> START BUTTON -> [pause]->"END GAME."
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There are many approaches to coping with it..
There's a lot of different ways to try and live in some kind of alternate reality that doesn't jive with the mainstream interpretation.
*You can play dress up
*Hunker down in a self-sufficient wilderness commune
*Try to "make it" as a globally-recognized VIP, in order to live the high life..
*Take (unapproved) mind-altering drugs
*Join a cult
*Spend all one's free time absorbed in a video game or television series
If you know me well, you wouldn't be surprised to hear that I desire to do all of these things at the same time. But I ultimately come around to remembering that there is no problem. The reaction that occurs on the part of the perceived separate self is indebted to genetics/cultural programming/parenting, all of which is out of the hands of the artificial "I." To go further, think of the body...constructed as it is, of subatomic particles vibrating in patterns. In either case, there is no "one" to claim the problem as his or her own. What is perceived as the problem is born from that initial, learned attachment to separate self....and that can't really be undone. The separate self persists as a concept, regardless of how hard it is hammered into smithereens through drugs, meditation, acts of charity, or whatever. It persists..
Regardless of any understanding (if you even want to go so far as to call it that), what's perceived to be left, in this case, is a decrepit shell of a seemingly separate self, who participates via habit. There is, of course a biological drive to participate...to compete..to spread out and conquer, despite any abstract "understanding." Unfortunately, in this skull-space....once the greasy bustle of the 9-5 winds down, the question mark persists in the mind - what's all this trouble for? Despite the knowledge that there can't be a separate individual participating in this particular day-to-day bullshit, there's a persistent push to find some sorta cosmic answer to account for all the stress. It seems to be physically impossible to permanently progress (or) regress(?) to a state of awareness that isn't self-referential.
In Summary:
The act of living is annoying and expensive..and yet it persists..
It's an arduous drag, for obvious reasons..but to add insult to injury, it feels like such a waste of time. There's nothing more immediately absurd than the realization that one is not actually learning anything, but rather being force-fed bits of information to throw up on a test at a later date. As we're tested on a weekly basis, there is also a consistent pressure pushing down. There aren't any letter grades to shoot for when taking the weekly quizzes though..and while on one hand that keeps things a bit more straightforward (Pass or Fail), the satisfaction of "doing a good job" is absent.
Two months ago I graduated from college with highest honors, but that fact was only satisfying for a day or so..and it was only satisfying because it suggested that I might have a better chance at being doomed to receive a higher paying job. It is highly difficult to abstain from analyzing things like "good jobs" - things which are to be taken at face value as being deeply satisfying. They are easily broken down to the degree that they are revealed to be (typically unpleasant) distractions. And, just like every other distraction, their significance is really hard to permanently kill in the mind. The struggle that emerges between the self-aware nature of the analysis and the will to silence the analysis often results in a state of deep conflict and depression. As it is 2015, I am expected to take prescription drugs so that I might accept it, and get on with the program. But even supposing there was no pharmaceutical element at play, society would consider the conflict to be a temporary setback in the quest to achieve stability.
And that really bothers me...
This conflict cannot be overcome by re-programming the mind to think in purely materialist terms. All attempts to return to some past state, at which I was entirely consumed by bullshit speculations on what to wear the next day, how to make people like me more, what I should be doing with my life as based on my age, etc, are all easily extinguished..supposing they actually arise in the mind. While I can entertain the notion that I am able to suppress any and all analysis, perhaps utilizing the "Stop Thought" technique, it seems that the least stressful approach allows that analysis to occur..suspending the argument of free will and following the train of thought straight into self-inquiry (giving up, so to speak). That being said, letting go of the attachment to that process is difficult..because it's part of being human.
I can't really regret being born because there was no decision to be made as to whether or not to come into existence. Also, I find it impossible to hate my parents for wanting to engage in basic mammalian impulse, and I feel empathetic upon considering the evangelical Christian programming driving their hooking-up behavior. The whole ordeal seems to be a shit sandwich nonetheless. And to clarify...it's not as if I know something important that no one else does; I've merely reached a point at which I've engaged in hyperanalysis and hyperobsession over my existence. This hyperobsession is natural for me, and it is merely the subject of obsession that is new. In the past I was typically obsessed with falling asleep, or mishandled social situations that occurred in the past. In this case, the anxiety that arises is existentialist in character, and the sense of feeling doomed is tantamount to being smothered with a pillow. Unsurprisingly, the mind gets lost out there, witnessing and analyzing such an abstract conflict. There is no solution to be had, however, and when the night comes on, and I climb into bed, I truly have trouble accepting the entire ordeal.
I am often determined to temporarily banish my existence in the "real world." I catch relief when I feel I am living a dream (one among many). The waking, sober life is incredibly stressful and the returns are pathetic: just enough money to afford shelter, nutrients, and cheap vices..in addition to a mountain of bills that can be semi-stalled supposing you're a real smooth-talking motherfucker (which I am not). My brain is desperately seeking an escape route, as I near the shackles that are fated to confine me. The perceived separate self is all kinds of confused; plans range from "let's deal with the problem" to outright moments of "fuck it! -> START BUTTON -> [pause]->"END GAME."
There are many approaches to coping with it..
There's a lot of different ways to try and live in some kind of alternate reality that doesn't jive with the mainstream interpretation.
*You can play dress up
*Hunker down in a self-sufficient wilderness commune
*Try to "make it" as a globally-recognized VIP, in order to live the high life..
*Take (unapproved) mind-altering drugs
*Join a cult
*Spend all one's free time absorbed in a video game or television series
If you know me well, you wouldn't be surprised to hear that I desire to do all of these things at the same time. But I ultimately come around to remembering that there is no problem. The reaction that occurs on the part of the perceived separate self is indebted to genetics/cultural programming/parenting, all of which is out of the hands of the artificial "I." To go further, think of the body...constructed as it is, of subatomic particles vibrating in patterns. In either case, there is no "one" to claim the problem as his or her own. What is perceived as the problem is born from that initial, learned attachment to separate self....and that can't really be undone. The separate self persists as a concept, regardless of how hard it is hammered into smithereens through drugs, meditation, acts of charity, or whatever. It persists..
Regardless of any understanding (if you even want to go so far as to call it that), what's perceived to be left, in this case, is a decrepit shell of a seemingly separate self, who participates via habit. There is, of course a biological drive to participate...to compete..to spread out and conquer, despite any abstract "understanding." Unfortunately, in this skull-space....once the greasy bustle of the 9-5 winds down, the question mark persists in the mind - what's all this trouble for? Despite the knowledge that there can't be a separate individual participating in this particular day-to-day bullshit, there's a persistent push to find some sorta cosmic answer to account for all the stress. It seems to be physically impossible to permanently progress (or) regress(?) to a state of awareness that isn't self-referential.
In Summary:
The act of living is annoying and expensive..and yet it persists..