Organisation

So Operation Organisation (I have a tumblr that I post slightly more frequently on with shorter posts such as this one) is currently failing. I hate it when I can’t seem to follow through with things. All my work is piling up, my room looks like a post-war zone — the only thing I’m proud of is that I’m doing slightly more reading than I have been recently… but even that can improve. 

I get these moments where I feel like I need to drastically change something about myself, about what I do, but then I fear doing so because our brains are innately partial to order and routine … My “order and routine” ironically being disorder and procrastination… But I need to break out of this routine, to create something more organised, so that I have more control over my life. It’s odd because I feel as though I have no spare time when, 80% of the time, I’m probably doing something that’s not related to anything (namely: being on the internet). I have the spare time, but it’s being used as procrastination-time which is entirely different. Procrastination-time is a meaningless filler — laden with sacks of Stress about what you should be doing — whereas spare time can actually be used for something.

I seriously need to yank on the reins of this mad stallion that is life and ride steadily in the direction I want to. 

We are such stuff As dreams are made on,

Preface: This is written like this because it reflects my unsure-ness on the topic. Punctuation contributes to order, but my belief on this wasn't truly ordered. It was formed as it was written.

what does it mean to be yourself? people are always telling you to be yourself, that's best, just be yourself, but what do they even mean? to what do i refer when i seek to be myself? this is interesting. what on earth does it mean to be myself?

recently i've been struggling with the idea of self. be yourself. who am i? i've noticed that in real life situations, i'm somewhat of a shapeshifter. i simply take the place of that which isn't there. if there is a group of people filled with predominately talkative, confident, outspoken people, i will almost inevitably become the shy listener, the one who barely contributes but absorbs everything. on the other hand, if a situation arises wherein the majority are in fact quiet and soft-spoken, i take it upon myself to initiate conversation and act more confidently.

i can't understand this. it seems that there is some general consensus (to which i wasn't invited to contribute) that states there is a self that you can be; you can simply reach into yourself and pull him out to assist you in these difficult times. be yourself. i don't know who i am! how can i be myself?

i know what i like; i know what i think of stuff; i know my qualities and personal history very well. if i and somebody else were given a quiz on me, i would indubitably destroy them in it. in this sense, i know myself the most, but this is not the self that everybody else refers to. everybody else refers to the perception of me. be yourself. i can't be a series of facts and likes and dislikes; what they ask of me is to be a persona. to have a personality. but the trouble is, the route of personality -- persona -- means mask in greek. masks are created to be removed, changed, to present with different fronts. and this is what people do, by nature. it's a funny thing how language can capture such intimate truths. but my point is, you ask me to be myself, and you clearly refer to my personae -- because it's impossible to be a series of likes, dislikes, and facts -- but these masks change. they change on everybody. some people may view my mask different because they stand in a different position, and the light falls on it now graciously, now grotesquely, now in a nature most profound. 

so what can i do? i can't be myself because i can't be a series of likes, dislikes, and facts; i can't be my personae because i have too many to choose from. and they affect people in an innumerable amount of ways. what do i do? there is no self to be.

so i sit in this dusty cellar of a mind, with my facts and my likes and my dislikes and also an array of masks, and i look at it all and ponder. am i doomed to the fate of an actor? is all i can do act? and it HITS me. BANG. language, you beautiful motherfucker, you reveal these hidden, intimate truths once more! when we think of acting, we think of pretending, being false. but there is a reason that it shares a name with its other meaning: to do, to go forth with an action. and at this point we must reach out and grab occam's razor to understand what that reason is. why do these two different meanings share the same name? it is the simplest reason: THEY ARE THE SAME. 

to act is to do is to pretend is to act. they are all the same. unless you wish to remain inactive, static, and become a nothing, you must act; you must pretend; you must do. we're all actors. shakespeare got it right in the tempest.

and so "be yourself" is "act". don't fuss over who you are, simply do. you have your personae at your disposal; enter the world with your likes and your dislikes and your facts and your masks and act to the very end. it's all you can do. you can't be your qualities -- that's impossible. you can only act them, if you wish to show them.

On Being Alone,

I do not doubt that experiencing things with others, sharing the moment, is indeed more fulfilling than being lonely, but recently I’ve been mentally toying with the idea of becoming slightly more… alone. I don’t mean actively isolating myself; I simply mean halting in the pursuit of sociability. But I shall explain.

This doesn’t stem from a dislike of those who surround me; it comes from my noticing that in adolescent culture so much focus is put on having the company of others. Sure, this isn’t a bad thing, but the emphasis is so strong that sometimes one can equate, in the eyes of the adolescent Zeitgeist, happiness with having company. So where does that leave those without company? Logically, without happiness. I’ve found that, being so immersed in the adolescent Zeitgeist (what with being a teen myself and all), these equations of company = happiness & -company = sadness  can actually become true to you and drag you into this (what I think may be unnecessary) sense of melancholy or even depression. It’s an unfortunate mind-frame because, although some people seem to be able to connect with others oh-so easily and maintain this — for lack of a better word — party (as in “group of people” or “social gatherings”, whichever you prefer) lifestyle, for others it doesn’t come quite as easily (perhaps they’re at a disadvantage somehow) and, instead of being encouraging and supporting the it’s-okay-to-be-alone ideology, the adolescent Zeitgeist makes them wear the crown of sadness.

My point here anyway is that I’ve been forced into wearing the aforementioned crown more than once or twice because I haven’t necessarily felt that there was somebody I could always connect with, but — inspired by the embedded video — I’m going to attempt to yank myself out of the Zeitgeist and embrace being alone. I’m not going to try unnaturally to be social; I’m just going to be me, attempting to chase goals and just be happy. It sounds sappy, but everyone’s primary goal is to be happy; nobody can say that they wish not to be happy. And by yanking myself out of the Zeitgeist, I may get closer in this pursuit of happiness.

Just to be clear (for myself more than anything):

-I won’t be trying overly hard to be social.

-I won’t be walking around feeling embarrassed not to be with anyone; I won’t feel the need to chill with people I’m uncomfortable chilling with just to avoid being alone.

- I won’t mind just sitting in the library or a coffee shop, doing some work, maybe reading, perhaps writing if my mood swings that way. Or just taking walks, listening to music, watching the world work around me. Anything. I’ll discover a whole new solitary side of experience.

- To be sure as well, I won’t be rejecting occasions to be social. If I’m invited somewhere, I won’t say “no” because I’ve yanked myself from the Zeitgeist; I’m not becoming a recluse. I simply won’t be depressed if the occasions don’t arise.

Two Epiphanies

i

It’s 6.10 AM; I haven’t got any sleep tonight, but I’ve just had an epiphany. Ever since starting my A Levels, I’ve had an internal struggle: what do I want to do at uni? English or Philosophy?

It’s clear to me now that I have to do Philosophy. I just have to. 

ii

As a rule, face what seems even not in my favour. I can just imagine a reader of this looking at that and thinking, What?! That’s your almighty epiphany? But for me, it really is. It just sort of snapped perfectly in my mind. I think in the past a major thing that’d stop me from doing is the anticipation of failure. But now, it just hit me: revolution only comes about when people face what earlier seemed impossible or tremendously difficult. And I’m a revolutionist (not in the political sense; in a personal sense, i.e. I embrace change). Ah, this is why I love insomnia! EPIPHANIES.

The Problem of Perfection

I’ve been hurled into a frenzy of thought by the revelation of the cover of my favourite band’s next single:

 

My initial thought was its interesting subtext. Of how it implies that perfection doesn’t entail beauty. And I still think it’s an amazing idea and an interesting sentence to have on the cover: it challenges the orthodox view of perfection. The orthodox view being that: amongst all the qualities that a perfect thing might have, beauty must be there. This cover states: a perfect thing doesn’t need beauty to be perfect.

Now, that’s great and slightly inspirational if you halt at that point.

However, in my consideration, I didn’t stop there. It made me think of what perfection actually is and whether it can exist.

When I think of “perfect”, the definition that comes to mind is: consistently having every favourable attribute imaginable.

So let’s consider Mr X and Mr Y. 

Mr X’s perfect lady is flawless in beauty and likes everything that he likes and to him has absolutely no imperfection.

Mr Y’s perfect lady must have flaws because otherwise, to him, she is cold and unreal. Mr Y’s perfect lady doesn’t need to be beautiful - that is immaterial. Mr Y’s perfect lady has all the right cons and all the right pros - a balance so right that it creates perfection to him.

To Mr X, Mr Y’s perfect lady has far too many imperfections and he detests her. To Mr Y, Mr X’s perfect lady isn’t perfect at all because he doesn’t think like Mr X and therefore barely gets along with his perfect lady.

Now, what we’ve got here is perfect being both perfect and imperfect at the exact same time. That is: P does not equal P. 

If then, perfect is not consistent, if one perfect clashes directly with another perfect, then is there any need for the constant search for it? Perfection as “consistently having all the favourable attributes imaginable” doesn’t exist, so what is the use in chasing something non-existent? You can’t try to be perfect because in doing so, you will never be happy. Pleasing everybody is an impossible action - that would only be realistic in a world wherein everybody was the same. And that’s not the case, nor would I like it to be the case. Things would be rather boring, then.

It seems that, although sometimes I forget, I have to remember that perfect is nothing and therefore nothing is perfect. Everything is imperfect - perfect lacks true meaning - and so no one thing is truly better than another. There is no agreeable scale. One can only act as one believes one should in order to exact desirable outcomes.

I don’t know what world I’m painting out with these revelations, but I’m getting closer to an understanding of how to be. And the problem of perfection seems to spiral back to the old adage of being yourself. But I think a better adage might be: be a self that makes you happy, despite external scrutiny.

It’s getting late. I’ll clock off now. 

The Internet is a Drug.

I've come to the conclusion that the internet works much like a hallucinogenic drug. What it does is: it simulates real life to trick you into thinking you are living, when in reality you're not. All you're doing is wasting your time, staring at a screen and not doing much at all. You're achieving nothing but the second-hand experiences of other people - and, although that is an experience in itself, it does not compare to you having gone out and lived yourself.

Take Facebook, for example, or some form of instant messenger. You are deluded by the Internet Drug into thinking that you are living and are doing something productive because, well, essentially you are speaking to people, you are communicating - you can see their photos and you can gather a sense of them from the tone of their writing. But take a step back and consider the reality of it.

The truth of it is that nobody can convey the true essence of exactly who they are on the computer/ in writing; there always lacks a certain aspect of their character or, in some cases, the quality of not being in-person completely changes their character. I suppose it's because body language is an intimate part of communication that is lost in virtual discourse - body language, whether we can consciously identify it or not, adds to the experience of speaking to somebody. It makes it more real - it adds so many more emotions lost in virtual discourse; in Real Life, we become more vividly flustered, more embarrassed at mistakes, more satisfied when a point is fluently composed, things are more interesting when we can see we've affected our interlocutor in some way. These are all things I welcome in a life wherein our time is limited and we must experience as much as possible. However, the veil of virtuality always takes away this raw essence from us! but by diluting the emotions, by dimming the rawness, it gives us confidence to speak out; it allows us to convey who we would like to be more precisely. That's the effect of the Internet Drug. By removing raw emotion, raw experience, it gives us strength and confidence. It allows us to be who we would like to be, but takes away from us who we are. And as you can tell, from previous posts, I'm an advocate of the truth and of experience, so - although, at first, the internet draws me in, on consideration - the idea repulses me.

We look at the pictures of others on the internet, we hear the anecdotes of others on the internet - it all accumulates and convinces us that we are living. It is not living. I can't stress that enough. The internet is a facsimile of real life wherein power and confidence is granted, but wherein the rawness of Real Life is detracted.  I would rather throw myself out into Real Life, powerless and without confidence, but slowly build it up with the raw materials I'm handed than to sit behind the artificial light of a screen, perusing the virtual world with my makeshift personality, "happy" as my body rots away.

Then the question is: how do we wean ourselves off this drug? How do we become clean? The only answer is to live. To go out and experience. It's a hard task because when we step away from the world the Internet Drug has provided us with, the rawness of Real Life bombards us, like a powerful ray of sunshine illuminating one who has emerged from his cave, and we almost want to cower and run back. But if we take a moment, and venture from our caves, we notice a world more beautiful. We can begin to add meaning to our lives.

And that's all we can do. There is no intrinsic meaning to life - life is a blank canvas; we enter like clueless artists, we use everything around us as our teacher, and only then do we paint with bright and vivid colours our own meanings. We create our own masterpieces. As far as I can see, the Internet Drug can only ruin that.

Live.

---------------------------------------------------

P.S. I'm not deluded enough to claim no benefits come from the internet at all - the point of this blog post is only to attack the internet becoming a lifestyle. The internet is another experience that we should partake in, but it most definitely should never become our primary activity.

On Experience

Let's begin by making plain the obvious: we only have a short time to live on this earth.

Every single one of us - me, Tom, Dick, and Harry; even you, you, the very reader of this blog - is going to die. There will come a day when we cease to exist in the knowledge of all those living - beyond that, who knows what happens? Perhaps we lose all recollection and become reborn, perhaps we simply enter oblivion, and cease to exist period. This, although interesting and frightening, is unimportant. The essential piece of knowledge is that we happen to have embodied a vessel that can express and experience many a fantastic emotion - we luckily became an animal that rules the world, that has a cognitive ability that far surpasses that of all other creatures here on earth.

No, I'm not going to tell you we should be grateful, I'm not about to preach, all I'm going to say is that we're lucky. We have this vast ability and this precious opportunity to experience the most interesting things, emotionally, physically, and what I propose with this blog post is that we take it.

Previous blog posts have exposed my naturally neurotic self - I'm not going to deny that, but now I think, perhaps, it isn't such an awful thing for others to misunderstand us. In fact, now I might suggest it is a vital experience for others to misunderstand us. One who first misunderstands is most likely to better understand later, for they have had the experience.

We've got a limited time in this world, and there is too much to experience - more than we ever will be able to - but we must experience as much of it as possible to fulfil our lives. We must engage in conversation with that girl who catches our attention - sure, we might horribly embarrass ourselves or might become devastated at the realisation that she won't ever love us, but it is another experience, one of the many that we must hungrily devour (for it will help us become stronger and our time is short); we must travel and experience new sensations, new cultures, many other interesting people that inhabit the world with us; we must tackle the mundane, partake in a job uninteresting to us, so that we absorb that experience also; but we must also chase our dreams as though our lives depend on it, because although there are many things to experience - all, I'd argue, as important as the other - what enjoyment can we take from life if we haven't experienced the one we most desired, our utmost goal?

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that: there is no bad, there is no embarrassing, there is no awkward, there is no objectively good, either - there are just a multitude of experiences, each as important as the other, each which we should perceive in a different manner from our fixed mental state of "good" and "bad".

What am I actually saying, you ask? Well, do something tomorrow that you always wanted to do but have perhaps put off when considering the consequences as bad. Instead, perceive the consequence as an important experience - be it your desired outcome or not - and just move on. We honestly don't have time to sit and worry and avoid doing due to fear.

Quit your job! Ask out that girl! Gather your money and move away! Approach that guy you think you might get on well with! Just do!

Experience! It's all we have.

And then we die.