le sigh.
I'm sick of having nothing new to bitch about.
Seriously.
OK, so here's the thing. Those of you who have, like me, read the first part of Catch 22 after getting it from a girl you felt up on a hippy bus in your teens while traveling the pacific north west and learning the tenants of the Bhagavad Gita, before losing said book and forgetting about it for years, will remember the bloke who wanted nothing more than to be bored, because it made time go slower and thus made life seem longer.
This character was funny because of the obvious illogic of his line of thinking, i.e., what is worth living about a life filled with boredom?
I feel like a hypocrite, because I'm not living life at the moment, I'm erring on the side of caution and stability. But I'm doing so, ostensibly, for greater freedom and experience in the future. Of course, even this clashes with my cries of Carpe Diem, that each moment should be lived to its fullest, that each day should be lived as though it were the last. The frustrating thing is, though, that life cannot be realistically lived that way. Existence as it is in our culture is filled with responsibility, and that responsibility chafes. Maybe life isn't SUPPOSED to start till 40.
There's a terrifying thought.
I'm sick of needing to be responsible, but worse, i'm sick of being sick of needing to responsible. The way I see it, I have two options: Be irresponsible, or be content with being responsible.
Not gonna be content with it; that would require killing off a large part of myself and would make the whole thing a moot point. So really, this leaves the option of being irresponsible. Not much of an option for the long term though.
So, the conclusion? Measured amounts of irresponsibility.
Responsible amounts of irresponsibility.
...
Fucking Catch 22.
Seriously.
OK, so here's the thing. Those of you who have, like me, read the first part of Catch 22 after getting it from a girl you felt up on a hippy bus in your teens while traveling the pacific north west and learning the tenants of the Bhagavad Gita, before losing said book and forgetting about it for years, will remember the bloke who wanted nothing more than to be bored, because it made time go slower and thus made life seem longer.
This character was funny because of the obvious illogic of his line of thinking, i.e., what is worth living about a life filled with boredom?
I feel like a hypocrite, because I'm not living life at the moment, I'm erring on the side of caution and stability. But I'm doing so, ostensibly, for greater freedom and experience in the future. Of course, even this clashes with my cries of Carpe Diem, that each moment should be lived to its fullest, that each day should be lived as though it were the last. The frustrating thing is, though, that life cannot be realistically lived that way. Existence as it is in our culture is filled with responsibility, and that responsibility chafes. Maybe life isn't SUPPOSED to start till 40.
There's a terrifying thought.
I'm sick of needing to be responsible, but worse, i'm sick of being sick of needing to responsible. The way I see it, I have two options: Be irresponsible, or be content with being responsible.
Not gonna be content with it; that would require killing off a large part of myself and would make the whole thing a moot point. So really, this leaves the option of being irresponsible. Not much of an option for the long term though.
So, the conclusion? Measured amounts of irresponsibility.
Responsible amounts of irresponsibility.
...
Fucking Catch 22.