Social Philosophy

What is the most attractive justification for value-promoting public morality?

This week's paper is seriously hard. It's not that I can't understand the subject matter, I just have no idea how to express my feelings on it in the form of a paper. The way I feel is that I have an extremely long and tedious math problem that can only be solved in my head. No visual place markers; no help from the physical world. All I can do is put all the pieces together and hope they come out in the most simplified form.
The problem is the one I've always had; which of course, is my almost overwhelming impatience. It is probably one of my biggest bars to relaxation and lasting satisfaction. I'm not really ambitious. Just impatient to be at the end. To finish something before I give it up for something else. To finish something before I stop caring. To leave before things have a chance to really fall apart; or to really work. Gahhhh

(shaking head in apparent disgust)

My left foot is numb. In fact both my legs are numb. The left foot however, stands out, with the sharp pain of a limb trying to either stay awake, or go to sleep. I don't know which except now I can't feel it at all. My hand move on their own accord and yet they control themselves. They seem to know when they've made a mistake and instinctually fix it without once consulting my brain to see what it thinks.

I need to sleep.


Disconnecting dots in my head.


Yet I only feel alive at night. It's the only time I feel completely free to be alone, and to be overwhelmingly sad at the same time. I know myself a little. Now it's time to learn the faces of others. I cannot sit in my room reading textbooks and old novels forever. I feel stagnant. I don't think life works in cycles. Or at least if it does than the cycles are all generalized affairs in which the details are constantly changing. Everyday I feel different than I've ever felt before. It may not be noticeable from yesterday, or from a feeling I had years ago, but that is an illusion. I feel different. I AM different. I am no longer myself. I am only the thing which is working towards myself.
I am clay the world's hand. The world belongs to me. I am not the world, but it is me. I am an ocean of thought and feeling, and they are nothing besides the universe outside of my carefully constructed atmosphere. Nothing breaks down those barriers other than myself. Nothing else is needed. My world is me. I am Me. The world is terrifying. I am afraid of myself. Of my core. Of my strength. Of my weaknesses. I am afraid of not realizing myself, while maintaining the fear of outliving myself.

I should maybe stop writing in here when my feet are numb; except it's the only time I feel like really truly laughing at myself.

Rebirth

Not literal, but that hardly matters to the mind. I think I'm starting to realize that people do not actually need for things to exist as they want them to. They just want something to believe in. A higher ideal for themselves. They don't seem to actually care whether or not everything happens as planned, as long as they believe in it enough for it to be reality. God does not need to exist, nor does there need to be an afterlife so long as you can believe that he does, and that there will be. Existence is merely dependent upon consciousness.
We think of reality in either terms of free will, determinism, or fatalism. Either you make your own choices or someone else does for you. You have no control over it. Just do what your told, from yourself or from another, and die. That's all you can hope for. It's all you've got to deal with. Life is like a strange combination of all three. There really is some truth to everything, and yet; objective truth is NOT relative. We DO NOT make up our own truth. Of course we can try, and we can be happy doing it. But happiness is not necessarily a by-product of truth. Truth is ugly, imperceptible, and subject to change, and yet it remains totally objective and independent from our own feelings and thoughts towards it.
Idealism v. Pragmaticism. Can we be both? Both happy and real? Can we deal with life as it is, while maintaining an optimistic view of what it could, or can be? Does it matter? Is life a void, or is it worth fighting through? Can we give ourselves up to nothingness and expect to be content? Can we read, reason, and know?
How can we see heaven if we never knew our mothers?
How can we ever feel redemption without first killing our fathers?
Please Don't Let Go.





Is there anything salvageable from rambling? Is there truth to madness?

Of Want

Want is a curious feeling. More than a feeling. Want is a state of being, a frame of mind, and a path. It is the thing that makes us move, but it is not the gas. It's the motivation. It can be helpful as well as detrimental, since it lacks objectivity by nature.
Desire is similar to want, but it also implies something else. Something more concrete. Want is an abstract emotion which sometimes we don't understand fully ourselves. When we desire however, we know exactly what it is we want. In order to want or to desire, we must be alive, yet how can we live when we want so badly to be something other than ourselves?
Idle and tired. I wanted to say none of this, yet it came out in a vain attempt to be funny, yet I doubt any will get it, which seems to negate the purpose of having it there out of humor's sake.
Nothing said, and nothing taken. Sleep well and wake.

Give Me Your Eyes....

For I Need the Sunshine.

Is This It?

I'm sick of being young and under educated. I can't wrap my arms around the world anymore. Last semester was my terrible one. My one lived in depression and disillusionment. I was a nineteen year old failed prodigy. Nothing in my life had turned out as I had always expected. I am the character in the story who forgets to laugh when his greatest plans and expectations go horribly awry. He forgets to laugh and forgets his soul. He wants to indulge himself in spiritual and social death. He becomes almost violently afraid of real and final death.
This semester I've relaxed considerably, becoming much less depressed and more sociable. I think I'm finally embracing the fact that life moves on. It only took about two and a half years. I was so stupid then; so susceptible to the pitfalls of emotion; mainly being caught up in a year and a half of denying that I felt anything for the situation for the first place, and finally embracing it only to find that closure was almost impossible at that point. I spent the next year thinking and moving away, becoming more myself than I've ever been before. Embracing Self. Not finding it capable of everything I want. Like discovering you have a body, and not being able to beat any but the invalids at a race, while certain you should be able to run a marathon.
I'm sick of people telling me I'm too impatient. I'm sick of compliments that I can't back up. Don't tell me I'm smart or good because once you say it, I know I'll never live up to that.
I'm sick of fashionable existentialism and popular philosophy.
Life and death are dealt in the details, and I want to drink it all in, and throw it up.
I am new but not strong. I never have time, and somehow it's better that way. Too busy to think. Too busy to be lazy; to put off work in favor of daydreams and porn.



I need sleep and satisfaction, I fear I shall see little of either tonight.

add on from washing machine...

Life is disconnected.
I've got nothing to offer right now.
I pulled myself of my other rant and now I am lost.
I'm too tired to make sense.
I feel anxious because I'm tired.
I'm tired because I can't sleep; due to anxiety.
I'm anxious because I need sleep.
I can't write.
I'm too critical.
I'm creeped out by my dreams.
No one laughs at my jokes. They just tell me I'm funny.
I'm so afraid of death, I speed without a seatbelt.
I made up the last half of the last line.
I don't know where to go with this.
Someone tried to kiss me a few nights back.
It was a guy.
Goodnight.