physics makes us all its bitches
the other night I had this dream that I was in a royal court and I was part of the queen's collection of novelties, like a jester or a midget, because I vomited rubies at random times during the day and she turned them into jewelry (I couldn't keep them; why I couldn't is unclear). And it was really gross because my throat would get all cut up and I'd get blood all over these beautiful dresses and everyone else and it was really embarrassing but they just kept clapping. So eventually I was like I don't want to throw up rubies for you people anymore so I ran away and lived underwater but it wasn't any better there because then I was just throwing up rubies for nobody.
What I take away from this (and the weird combination of pampered and tortured that I have been for the past couple of years) is that luxury and pain, respectively, are equally meaningless in and of themselves. The only thing that will ever give a life any meaning is pain with a purpose. This is why it's a good impulse that we want whatever we're not: we want hot things when we're cold, cold things when we're hot, occupation when we are bored, leisure time when we're occupied, etc etc etc. Why people almost universally hate lukewarm water (for fear of disappearing in the lack of contrast?) It's good that we're dissatified with whatever we are because it keeps us moving, but it's bad if you adopt a love for being contrary for it's own sake. You can't just adapt all the time, but you also can't try to define yourself only by what you are not. The only solution is to live in the everyday pain of opposition by finding a hope or purpose that transcends those circumstances.
Which is what I haven't done yet, which is why my subsonscious is apparently underwater vomiting rubies into the silt.
I hope I find something to replace the nihilism (if that's what you could call it?) soon, because nihilism is boring, frustrating, and, obviously, depressing as hell. And at this point (& this is quite a change for me) I care more about not being depressing, frustrating, and boring than I do about being right.
What I take away from this (and the weird combination of pampered and tortured that I have been for the past couple of years) is that luxury and pain, respectively, are equally meaningless in and of themselves. The only thing that will ever give a life any meaning is pain with a purpose. This is why it's a good impulse that we want whatever we're not: we want hot things when we're cold, cold things when we're hot, occupation when we are bored, leisure time when we're occupied, etc etc etc. Why people almost universally hate lukewarm water (for fear of disappearing in the lack of contrast?) It's good that we're dissatified with whatever we are because it keeps us moving, but it's bad if you adopt a love for being contrary for it's own sake. You can't just adapt all the time, but you also can't try to define yourself only by what you are not. The only solution is to live in the everyday pain of opposition by finding a hope or purpose that transcends those circumstances.
Which is what I haven't done yet, which is why my subsonscious is apparently underwater vomiting rubies into the silt.
I hope I find something to replace the nihilism (if that's what you could call it?) soon, because nihilism is boring, frustrating, and, obviously, depressing as hell. And at this point (& this is quite a change for me) I care more about not being depressing, frustrating, and boring than I do about being right.