Leibnizian God's Infinite Analysis!!!=My brain
So...not to compare myself to a god or anything blasphemous like that (oh come on, I'm still an INTJ, you know, the type that brought you Evil People Trying to Become Gods All Over The Place) but...I definitely sympathize with Leibniz's God. If not Leibniz, that silly-ass curly-wigged dude. You see, Leibniz's God can create the universe ex nihilo, an awe-inspiring power whose ability to inspire awe comes directly from its inability to bow to logical analysis. But there is one faciendum between L's G (not to be confused with the Korean mega-corporation) and Creation: he must choose the best possible world.
You'd think that would be easy, since you know, it's clearly the one with the most shiny things and the least amount of balloons (or something close to that). But the catch is that...this choice involves an infinite analysis (for other, unrelated reasons). Therefore, an infinite analysis stands in between finding the best possible world and, you know, enacting it.
Damn.
This is my brain. It is terribly stressed out, caffeinated, blabbing embarrassing things to people and wondering how the hell it is to complete its presentation on Plotinus in the next, you know, few hours. Thus, rendering it completely incapable of actually completing said presentation. Other factors aren't helping, but...really, it's all me, right here, unable to do a single damn thing. Hence, I have decided to just ramble until I feel inspired (WARNING: this may take a very long time. At some point, if you are male, please get up and shave. If you are female, shave your legs. If you are Asian and female, well...you're screwed haha).
Those of you who may have witnessed the irrational frustration and subsequent irritation and stress of the last few weeks may be happy to know that things between me and a certain other person have finally reached a conversation point. That is, a point where we came to a forum and talked about things and she will try to respect me and my privacy (that feels so wrong; should it be 'my privacy and me'? That's even weirder from a certain standpoint), as well as attempting to back off on several key points. Whether this actually gets implemented will determine the ratio of time spent in the dual locations in which I plan to split my time for the rest of the summer.
My godfather is taking me flying in a plane. No lie.
As a consequence of this extremely serious and draining discussion I am emotionally blank. I think it would be hard to feel anything right about now, but at the same time I feel too raw, as though if I were to expose myself to further intensity the numbness would straightaway become pain. It's incredibly strange to feel as though your heart is suspended temporarily, leaving you something akin to a machine (a false analogy, by the way--people are terrible machines). One is acutely aware of one's mind and perceptions but left in a state of neutrality about those awarenesses.
At these times, when I feel that I have nothing left to spare for other people or even, indeed, myself, I feel the closest to my own personality stereotype. It's a vulnerable feeling, a space where I have no intuitions and no extra senses and I feel no affection towards anything, rare because I am strongly attached to objects, to environments, to words. Even sometimes to people. It is like being a cloud inside my own self-- a vacantly drifting object, nothing invested in the scene it observes. I'm at peace here, and yet I don't like it: I'm removed even from myself.
Maybe I just don't like being at peace. I'd be a terrible warlord if I did. :-)
I'm sorry. I have no idea what i'm doing right now. I feel as though people don't like me when I'm not outrageous, engaging, entertaining...and yet here I am, whiny like an atheist on a Sunday. You can stop reading, you know. I've decided it's dangerous to keep catering to other people's expectations, to keep promoting one aspect of myself above all others.
The world is frightening to me. If I'm attuned to it, each thing has its own resonance and runs so deep it's almost ridiculous--I could spend so much time lost in one single thing. Because...here's the thing. I don't trust my feelings at all. They lead me into wells so catastrophically deep and dangerous that I don't know what to do with them. That's why I want there to be an objective reality that I can cling to and base my actions on. But there isn't, and you know it and I know it. Sure, I can have high standards for decision-making. I can expect a degree of rationality from other people. But I shouldn't expect more than I myself can give, which is very little. Ideally someone could protect me there, in my head, where it matters to me. But no one can. And that is why I live and will live and will die this way.
You'd think that would be easy, since you know, it's clearly the one with the most shiny things and the least amount of balloons (or something close to that). But the catch is that...this choice involves an infinite analysis (for other, unrelated reasons). Therefore, an infinite analysis stands in between finding the best possible world and, you know, enacting it.
Damn.
This is my brain. It is terribly stressed out, caffeinated, blabbing embarrassing things to people and wondering how the hell it is to complete its presentation on Plotinus in the next, you know, few hours. Thus, rendering it completely incapable of actually completing said presentation. Other factors aren't helping, but...really, it's all me, right here, unable to do a single damn thing. Hence, I have decided to just ramble until I feel inspired (WARNING: this may take a very long time. At some point, if you are male, please get up and shave. If you are female, shave your legs. If you are Asian and female, well...you're screwed haha).
Those of you who may have witnessed the irrational frustration and subsequent irritation and stress of the last few weeks may be happy to know that things between me and a certain other person have finally reached a conversation point. That is, a point where we came to a forum and talked about things and she will try to respect me and my privacy (that feels so wrong; should it be 'my privacy and me'? That's even weirder from a certain standpoint), as well as attempting to back off on several key points. Whether this actually gets implemented will determine the ratio of time spent in the dual locations in which I plan to split my time for the rest of the summer.
My godfather is taking me flying in a plane. No lie.
As a consequence of this extremely serious and draining discussion I am emotionally blank. I think it would be hard to feel anything right about now, but at the same time I feel too raw, as though if I were to expose myself to further intensity the numbness would straightaway become pain. It's incredibly strange to feel as though your heart is suspended temporarily, leaving you something akin to a machine (a false analogy, by the way--people are terrible machines). One is acutely aware of one's mind and perceptions but left in a state of neutrality about those awarenesses.
At these times, when I feel that I have nothing left to spare for other people or even, indeed, myself, I feel the closest to my own personality stereotype. It's a vulnerable feeling, a space where I have no intuitions and no extra senses and I feel no affection towards anything, rare because I am strongly attached to objects, to environments, to words. Even sometimes to people. It is like being a cloud inside my own self-- a vacantly drifting object, nothing invested in the scene it observes. I'm at peace here, and yet I don't like it: I'm removed even from myself.
Maybe I just don't like being at peace. I'd be a terrible warlord if I did. :-)
I'm sorry. I have no idea what i'm doing right now. I feel as though people don't like me when I'm not outrageous, engaging, entertaining...and yet here I am, whiny like an atheist on a Sunday. You can stop reading, you know. I've decided it's dangerous to keep catering to other people's expectations, to keep promoting one aspect of myself above all others.
The world is frightening to me. If I'm attuned to it, each thing has its own resonance and runs so deep it's almost ridiculous--I could spend so much time lost in one single thing. Because...here's the thing. I don't trust my feelings at all. They lead me into wells so catastrophically deep and dangerous that I don't know what to do with them. That's why I want there to be an objective reality that I can cling to and base my actions on. But there isn't, and you know it and I know it. Sure, I can have high standards for decision-making. I can expect a degree of rationality from other people. But I shouldn't expect more than I myself can give, which is very little. Ideally someone could protect me there, in my head, where it matters to me. But no one can. And that is why I live and will live and will die this way.