Waking Reality

I seem to finally be over my ill stupor, and yet still my mind keeps drawing a blank on many of the topics I entertain myself in pondering. The only thing I can recall wondering about in the past week is where the line between dream and reality lies. I awoke this morning remembering that I was feeling much better and I don't need to call my myopic doctor again. The only problem with that memory is that it never happened. I just woke up. Is my subconscious mind trying to tell me something while I sleep, or is it just images formed during the process of 'rewiring' my synapses?

Do tell...

I notice I have the most difficulty with this when I'm ill or I've overexerted myself. I can't form thoughts as well a usual, my vocabulary drops significantly, and I find my self confused far more often. It makes me wonder if the reality we perceive is stored in our own mind, and what happens around us is just more input. So which part would be the 'real' one? Solid and tangible objects could certainly be construed to be 'real', but are they still the same thing if you can't see them, or feel them? A person without a sense of touch would not associate a Persian cat with being 'soft' or 'fluffy', so perhaps they would just associate it as 'white' or perhaps 'neurotic'. It all comes down to how things are labeled.

Labels are placed on the things we sense so that they can be sorted out in our brain for easier recall should that information be needed again. If everyone labels objects in their mind differently, then the comparative 'reality' is slightly altered. Things that one would associate as being 'frightening' could be seen by another as being 'fun'. Thus, even the tangible objects in our world are not always the same, except in our own mind. So the desire to learn and experience things is just a means of enhancing our own 'reality' with more data.

All of this leads me to the conclusion that dreams are the process of organizing the input recently received into relevant information for later use. Quite often, we don't even remember our dreams, because they're not actually anything new or recalled. Occasionally, we learn something from our dreams and create new information without even trying, and thus, we've added to our 'reality' while in the throws of an escape from the real world. A paradoxical thought to say the least.

Dreams are an extension to reality and to me this means that reality does not exist outside a living mind. Everyone lives in a different reality, which can be similar or greatly conflicted. This can lead to strong communities or war, depending on how the labels are placed. Something so simple becomes so complex, and vice versa. Or it could all be a dream, or perhaps a nightmare...

Doctor Rant v2.0

I went in for my 'yearly' the other day along with the fever, cold sore, swollen tonsils, and the many infections I have going on. I have the first appointment of the day and was there 5 minutes before my appointment time. After the 30 minute wait for I don't know what, I'm finally taken back. A nurse weighed me and then took my temperature and blood pressure. All standard except for the fact that she didn't tell me what any of the stats were. She took me to a room and asked my why I'm here. I prattled of everything fairly efficiently and she left saying the doctor would be in soon.

Do tell... continue.

This is a new doctor for me, my old one left and referred me to her. I have no idea why though. The doctor gets in and can't figure out how to operate the light over the bed. That's a good sign. Then she drops a utensil that was recently removed from its hygienic packaging on the floor. She picks it up and sets it back with everything else. I'm clad the nurse was there to notice and get a new one. Fast forward, worst 'yearly' ever, but it's over.

I then ask for my results of my previous 2 blood work samples. She shuffles through my files and can't find them. So I start talking about the illness I've been suffering as of late, of which I apparently gave to my boyfriend. Hopefully he gets a better doctor. She fumbles through my files again and says everything looks fine. I ask her what the stats were when I was first brought in. “Oh” she replied and prattled off my weight, blood pressure, and temperature. I instantly saw a problem with two of the values. First thing out of her mouth was “I see you've lost 2 pounds since I last saw you... that's great!” I wanted to shove my file... well... use your imagination. I point out that I'm running a fever of 100.8 and my blood pressure is low. I show her my infections and describe how I've been feeling. She then said, “Oh, it sounds like you're sick.” I just about died inside.

I tried hard to resist the urge to slap her and say “No shit Sherlock! Last time I checked, I was told you're a doctor, but I could be mistaken...” I calmed myself and asked her what I should do. She then said “It's probably viral, so don't worry about it.” I then coughed a barking cough and she said, “Oh, you have a cough.” I said, “yeah, I've had it for over a week and my temperature reached 102.7 at one point.” It was her comment after this that I decided she was just another quack and this wasn't going to get anywhere no matter what I do. She said, “I'm sorry you have a cough. I'm going to go talk to my supervisor and see where those labs went.” Yeah.... you do that.

She comes back and said they were both normal and everything looks good. She shoved papers in my hands, instructed me how to get to the checkout counter, and then promptly left the room. If I see her again it will be in passing while I'm around waiting to see a different doctor. I'm probably going to look into seeing a different clinic too. Seriously, is the hardest part of med school being able to afford the tuition? I can't believe that some of these dolts could have passed anything more difficult than a ninth-grade science class.

Again, doctors wonder why people refuse to see them unless they absolutely have to. The insurance companies and now those who practice medicine are causing those that need said services not to pursue them. How could we let things go this far? My cynical view of the world is yet again reinforced.

The Collective Mindset

Though many have criticized me for it, I have an obsession I don't know that I want to control. I see it in everyone I meet, but it takes on a different form in every individual. I love to collect things. I could write pages upon pages of things I've sought out in my lifetime. I have always picked up pennies off the ground, I have a rather large whisker collection (enough to fill the faces of more than 10 cats), and I collect things as inane as soda can tabs. It may be odd, but one can learn quite a bit from the brick-a-brack people like to keep around. There's also a deeper meaning behind all of this.

Do tell...

I've been "encouraged" to reduce the amount of some of my larger collections due to space issues. Now that I have lessened the things I own, I find myself missing them. I've noticed this causes me to hold onto what I have left much more, even though I have more than enough to sustain me. It's my stuff, and I want to keep it.

I wondered if this was just a quirk of mine, or if it was something many other people share. I searched around the net a bit, and realized that just about everyone who CAN get their hands on something, will do what they can to obtain it. Many philosophies of life see this as a weakness of human nature, and that one can become stronger by giving up the things one finds most enjoyable in life. I can see how this would make you appreciate everything you have even more, but is it really a flaw?

I've been told that the only things I should struggle to keep or fight for are the basic necessities. All one needs in life is food, water, and shelter. I was told that this is how the animals live and that we're weak if we can't. What about community? My lovebirds couldn't live without each other, nor could my rats. What of love? Procreation is essential in the continuation of a species, and is in turn made more enjoyable. I've had pets that wouldn't share their toys, get jealous over another pet, even openly agitate another seemingly out of spite. I've also noticed that the more intelligent an animal is, the more they are prone to these behaviors.

As humans are the best tool-users and one of the smartest species in the world, wouldn't this mean that it's only natural to crave more? Why must humanity overcome human nature, when so often it is used as an excuse? I'm not arguing this to justify having about a dozen used batteries on my desk (for some reason), but is it so wrong as to force oneself to go against natural desires? This topic is bordering on theology and the stigmas of civilized society. Though it is apparently a must for survival, as we are a community seeking beast, I still find myself straying from the pack on this topic. I guess this is better left to discuss when I'm not running a fever and am up at 4:30am (again, for some reason).

I must find away to learn more about philosophy without being evangelized, and human nature without getting into societal conflicts and politics. I tend to try to avoid cyclic arguments. I don't want to shun my obsessive collection, because the thing I enjoy obtaining the most is knowledge. I couldn't live with giving that up.

My child...

This will be the second time I've tried publishing something while drunk, and as you may not know, I deleted the last one the very next day. Let's see how this one does.

I have been pondering odd circumstances and preparedness as of late. I've been dreaming about horrible tragedies, but they aren't nightmares, because I always know what to do in the given situation. I found this has happened recently for me and is, so far, turning out well for me.

Do tell...

My cat has a habit of marking everything with great enthusiasm. I noticed one day, that his nose looked a little funny and was oozing a tan colored substance. I immediately ran and got the first aid equipment. I took some hydrogen peroxide to his nose to disinfect. He used to love playing with Q-tips, but no longer. His usually black nose turned very white and bubbly, meaning it was rather infected. So I rubbed some Neosporin into his nose and hoped it would look better in the morning. It did look a little better so I assumed as he is a cat, he would keep it clean. I soon found that was the wrong assumption.

The next day, he hopped up on the arm of the couch and I noticed what I thought was a scab was sticking out 1/4in more than it was yesterday and it was surrounded by a whitish-yellow crust. I instantly knew what was going on. I've never known a cat to get an abscess on his nose due to over-invigorating marking. I took quite a bit of H2O2 to it after washing it, and what I originally thought was a scab began to flake off. I rushed to get the tweezers and sterilize them and the scissors. I cut off the dead skin on his nose, disinfected it, and rubbed a liberal amount of Neosporin into it.

The next day, it looked much better, and he was next to me purring for about 2-3 days after. I'm still treating him twice a day, but the thing I notice most is the appreciation he has show to me despite the pain he endured. He's been practically glued to me for the past 3 days purring incessantly, even though I smear Neosporin on his nose twice a day. I also stick him with a needle every other day and put itchy fluids into him, but he still cuddles up next to me purring. If you have never known the comfort and happiness of owning a pet with unconditional love for you, you should look into obtaining such a thing.

Even now, almost a week after he cut part of his nose off, he still comes to me to cuddle and marks everything he sees, even though it might be a bit painful. He's either a strong-willed and stubborn cat, or he doesn't remember that his nose still hurts. Either way, I love him so much and am willing to see him unhappy for a short time to make him comfortable in the long run. I need more pets... I love expanding my family.


Edit: I read this the next morning and immediately see what being intoxicated does to my writing. I'll leave it as is, but I'll likely not do this again. Ugh...

A Work In Progress

As you may notice, I've done some customization of this site in order to better reflect its atmosphere. I didn't want to do this a the expense of legibility, so I may have much more "tweaking" to be done. Any thoughts are welcome, though I'm focusing primarily on the graphical side of things.

Do tell...

Working with various types of padding in XML 1.0 can be rather annoying, but I feel I can keep everything looking at least decent. I was going for a "firing neurons" sort of effect. It took me a while to figure out how to make it more subtle and with a small file size, but I'm satisfied. Just let me know if you have difficulty reading it, or something is off with the organization.

Pondering Tedium

Boredom is something that plagues every conscious life-form at some point or another. I myself was constantly bored in class and often still am. I was told by a teacher that if you're bored, then you're boring. I found this to be a bit off-putting, and I began my days of doodling in the margins. If I wasn't allowed to doodle, play with my pencil, bounce my leg, or do any of my other obviously ADHD tendencies, then what was I to do? I would immerse myself into something so small and unimportant that the rest of the world would seemingly vanish.

Do tell...

At first, it was just picking at the bumps on my arm or pulling on the threads on the hole in my jeans where my knee should be. This would only work so long before all reality would come rushing back at me like a bullet train. The key was not to let anyone else notice you'd snapped back into awareness. Just nod like you've been listening the whole time. Recess will come soon.

After a while, the teachers told my mother to medicate me or I wouldn't be allowed back in, or something along those lines. I was eventually being spoon-fed Ritalin and Prozac on a daily basis. The first thing I noticed was the ability to see things closer and in more depth than ever before. Suddenly, the bumps on my arm or peeling paint off my pencil was deemed more important than these new minuscule tasks in my mind. I could see the fiber granules in the wooden desk, I could count how many nicks were in the side of the desk, and my mind wandered to the idea of calculating how many months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds I've been alive. I had discovered blind tedium.

After I hit puberty, Ritalin stopped working the way it was supposed to, and I was put on Dexedrine. For those who don't know, Dexedrine is a rather strong amphetamine that was used like speed "back in the day." On this new drug, I could see and absorb everything within my view as a separate entity, but all of them at the same time. I could think two different thoughts at once! My mind had always jumped from image to image in rapid succession, and the Ritalin slowed it from a hurricane to a mild torrent. Now, it was like I was Neptune controlling the tides at will. It was a bit euphoric, but this wouldn't last.

After a few months being on the drug, I noticed that my daily "rituals" were almost done without thought nearly at the same time every day. Patterns in life, which used to be a passion of mine, now needed little to no thought at all. Perception was done in passing and my mind was blank. This was very relaxing, until I realized I was no longer letting my mind wonder to intangible flights of fancy. I was in the doldrums, and I needed to find my muse again. It didn't take much. I lay my hands on the piano keys and music came out. I take a pencil and put it to paper and see something beautiful. I was in the doldrums, but I was in tune with myself, my surroundings, and my hobbies more than I had ever dreamed of! The side-effects of weight loss and no appetite were insignificant compared to the outcome.

I was taken off the Dexedrine after 5 years, and it has been reinstated into my daily regimen only recently. I've let myself sink into the abyss of my silent mind and rest motionless. When I feel the need to regain full consciousness, I will be in my best form, awaiting all the universe has to offer.

Deep Thoughts

First off, I've deleted a post recently. If you read it and wondered where it went, it was interred back into the depths of my mind, only to be extricated by those who actively seek it.

Speaking of the depths, I've been contemplating more and more about an alien world I'm eager to view more of. I am speaking not of other worldly bodies or the black beyond Earth's atmosphere, but of the largest and most unexplored terrain on this planet. I have been shown glimpses of the abyssal plain and the inhabitants therein, and I want to see more. For those who don't believe or question the idea of life outside this planet, the need only to visit the deepest, darkest place it has to offer.

Do tell...

I first became astounded by the potential of what could be lurking deep below when I saw an article in passing. It was about a Japanese fisherman who had found a rather large, bloated, and very strange looking shark of some sort. I had never seen it before, and it fascinated me. This creature had some of the strangest adaptations science has seen in a shark before. It has an odd triangular protrusion on the top of its head and the beast's jaws could actually be extended outside of the mouth in various degrees. It was dubbed the "Goblin Shark," and I was immediately hooked. Warning: If you are unafraid of being truly creeped-out, click at your own discretion. The music gives this video a proper "alien" twist to it.



More recently, I began watching a series of documentaries called "Blue Planet" as they were being released on Animal Planet and the Discovery Channel. The documentaries took 5 years to film and had some of the most stunning images of life on this planet. A particular episode of note, was done entirely on life in the abyssal plain. To this day, it is one of my favorite viewing experiences. If you haven't seen it before, may I be so bold as to recommend it be added to your watch list. It will certainly leave you impressed.

Leave us to ponder what may live beyond our earthly borders, but I say, we should be looking closer to home to find what we have before seen only in our dreams.

Mental Overindulgance

Seeing as the last post I made seemed a bit more of a rant toward an intangible idea oft leading to drama, I've decided to keep this post as angst-free as possible. This may be quite a task, but I'll give it a shot.

I considered several topics to discuss before my mind hit a figurative wall. Most of what I'd come up with would either be a realist view of a topic that many would find negative, or it would be something boring. I say boring, but what I really mean is a topic with a conception one might find difficult to grasp. I would like to discuss the idea of a possible struggle for dominance between modern existentialism and absurdism in a growing globalist world. I like both views, but it brings up odd questions like, "I wonder what kind of exchange Kierkegaard and Freud would have?" Ultimately, I lose the attention of my audience and I end up saying something like, "What did you think of [insert movie/book title here]?" Then the self-loathing desperately tries to grasp me in its depressing clutches. We'll have none of that here!

Do tell...

I discussed the afore mentioned conceptions up for blog consideration with a friend of mine, and something odd happened. I was drawn to the image of a squid with a giant phallus-shaped hat on his head. My mind cleared and I could grasp at ideas much better. I think the true divide is between those who take in everything and those who ignore it. Again, I come to the saying "ignorance is bliss." I admit I understand this to a large extent. Too much is happening in the world. With the advent of television and 24 hour news channels, celebrity gossip, tragic events, politics, religion, and all of the conflicting choices one has to make between these, it's no wonder people don't want to pay attention. More and more people suffer from depression and anxiety every year. It would be easier to let one's mind shut down. With just the simple self-discussion of a writing topic, I found my head swimming. There's just too much to absorb.

I've tried shutting the world out before and focusing on a little social group I wanted to be a part of. Even if a joke was innocuous, I would muster a dainty little laugh. Always smile, you'll make more friends. At the same time, you'll probably die inside and won't have to worry about anything beyond your home, work, social clique etc. The level of ignorance one would have to feign to obtain this "bliss" is below what would be average for most of man kind. It's far too painful to attempt for an extended period of time. I lasted for about three years. I then spent the next five years "rediscovering" myself. I have now come to accept the drone faces of my audience, and just hope my thoughts have reached someone. If not, oh well, I don't socialise much anymore.

Perhaps I will later discuss the idea of modern existentialism in more depth. I might even find it cathartic. Yes, I'm essentially saying "If you don't get it, too bad, it's what I want to write about so you can just go look it up yourself." If I end up pointing someone to the works of Kafka, then I've made a small mark on the world. My thoughts are becoming more paradoxical.

Next up, I reveal the answer to the one true question, "Why are we here?" As if I'd tell you that! For those of you who thought of the answer (42) immediately, kudos to you.

Well, Isn't it Ironic

Many occurrences as of late have been causing me to wonder if there is a luck based deity who finds causing tribulations in my life to be humorous. I'll tell someone one thing, and the exact opposite will happen. I go to do something routine, and I'm either injured, comically perplexed, or possibly soiled in some manner. At first, these coincidences were irritating me to no end. Now that I've been through enough to become numb to my horrid state, I look back at the events and chuckle a little inside.

Do tell...

Last night, I tried to brush my teeth with my mechanical toothbrush. I've been using my regular one for a while as my mechanical one ran out of energy and all the AA batteries we had were somehow depleted. Even the unopened ones were dead. I've never had that happen before. Anyhow, I purchased some new batteries and placed them into my toothbrush and began brushing. Not but a minute later, I found I was in moderate pain as my lip caught in the mechanism. It was pinching and rotating a small portion of my lower lip rather painfully. I turned it off and looked at the injury. It added yet another blood blister to my already sore mouth. I had apparently suffered from a nightmare two nights before and bit myself several times. My toothbrush is dangerous.

For another frustration, I turn to the operating that everybody loves to hate, Windows Vista. I don't mind the system much, I just wish developers would just accept that it's the new OS and program for it. Well, I've had trouble upgrading it to service pack 1. When I installed it, my internet adaptor would stop working. I finally fixed this problem by the time service pack 2 came out. I immediately upgraded and right after it finished, I received a warning from Windows. My C: drive apparently only had 200MB left one it. Yes, SP1 and 2 were approximately 8 GB is size. As I soon found out, similar to what I mentioned before, there weren't any programs able to expand the partition without deleting half the drive. I called it a night and told myself I would fix it tomorrow.

I felt fresh as I woke up the next day and decided I would put the energy to reviving my now slowing computer. I researched what I could do for about 3 hours. The conclusion people in a similar situation came to was to run a linux boot disk and move the partitions with that. I thought it odd being a completely different OS, but it sounded simple enough. I just needed to burn a CD and boot it up. Two hours of laborious searching later, I found some empty CDs and was getting ready to burn. I clicked on my burning application and my computer crashed. Another hour later, I found the disk that came with the burner, installed it, and I was ready to go. My computer then informs me that all of the CDs I put in were unusable and/or corrupt. The burner that I rarely ever use chose to die at the most inopportune moment. I eventually got everything working with the use of another computer, several more programs, and a few days worth of fairly intense frustration. I get the feeling my computer hates me.

Vehicles can be a major source of frustration, but they are a neccissary evil. I named my little red Civic "Shippo." The name comes from a little cartoon fox I fell in love with many years ago. I knew that Shippo's timing belt needed to be replaced, and the valves needed to be adjusted, so I set a month I would take it in and planned on the amount it was appraised for. Then, it being summer in Texas, my air conditioning went from being weak to completely failing. That and a few other occurrences of everyday life set the repair back two months. This would just so happen to land the repair time on the date my inspection and registration stickers expire. I push the date back another month and then realize I need my oil changed and the fuel filter replaced. Shippo's "injuries" were finally saved up for about five months after the original date, but it's been fixed. A maxed out credit card, two cleaned out bank accounts, and almost half the value of the car later, I'm driving with confidence. Nervousness overcame me a few days later when an odd warbling noise was emitted from the engine compartment. Shippo must hate me.

Not all oddities in occurrence are necessarily bad. I've been turning down playing with a small band with friends and relatives because my electric piano had a bad speaker. I figured it was a short or some crossed wires, and I'm sure I'll have it fixed next time some disposable income comes my way. At least, this is what I though after heading home after a get-together with said friends and relatives. I sighed and turned on my piano and plucked out a few notes feeling a bit forlorn. To my surprise, the sound came out as clear as day. My piano has revived itself for me! I wish all of my possessions would take a lesson from this show of loyalty.

For now, rather than dreading what may come, I await what the schizophrenic nature of life has to throw at me. Hopefully, it makes for some good reading.

Fireflowers

For yet another year I venture out in the early night, bitterly realizing how hot summers can be in Texas. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth sweating near the wafting smoke and booming echos that immediately set off a medley of car alarms. When I was a kid, it was almost a tradition to sit in the parking lot at my mother's work and watch a nice, professional show done to music that was inevitably blaring out of someone's car. It was nice, rather uncomfortable, but nice. My younger sister was born around this time, I was eight, and when the lights went off they would fascinate her. Of course, the lights were followed by a large boom that caused her to attempt to drown out the music with a high-pitched scream. Ah, the memories.

Do tell...

That tradition died after a while and I set off making my own firework shows with friends outside the city. While it was fun setting them off, I always seemed a bit disappointed with their minuscule flare and a barely audible pop. The most interesting thing about making your own firework shows was there's about a 90% chance someone is going to light something on fire. There was also the experimentation of dropping black cats down a crawdad hole to see what would happen. Then there was the usual fun of finding things to blow up or launch into the night sky. These annual events usually became rather uninteresting after around the fourth hour of waiting in the emergency room with your dumb friend. At least you get nearly infinite laughs out of the following taunting and teasing, as if anyone could ever live that down. You'd think people would learn after the first time they set themselves aflame.

I've since moved on and have joined back into the yearly routine of just waiting for the right time, going outside with a full stomach, and watching the sky light up. I've done this the past three years in a row and it's gotten better every time. You sit and talk with family while you stuff your face, wait for it to get dark, and then let the show begin. Everyone sits out in the heat in a big, tight-nit group and they let the "oohs" and "ahhs" flow like a fountain. I, on the other hand, do my best to name the type of every firework I see. I was very excited to spot every one of my favorites this year, plus a few I've never seen before. To my surprise, the 8 month-old made hardly a peep, even when it seemed all the car alarms were going off at once. The size of the larger bursts were staggering at times, made more impressive by the following ear-popping boom.

All in all, tonight's display is one of the best I've seen. I hope to remember it for a long time to come. Of course, sharing this experience with loved ones just made the fireworks seem that much brighter.

Cartoons in the US

I've noticed a growing trend in the world of cartoons lately. Cartoons in the US are supposed to be for kids, and for a few exceptions, they've been going a more simple-minded route. I enjoy seeing cartoons that try to break away from that. Some good examples are the ever popular Family Guy and Aqua Teen Hunger Force. In fact, the majority of the Cartoon Network line-up has become a staple of my viewing diet.

Do tell...

The one thing I've observed most over the years is the simplicity with which the animation of a US cartoon is going. While Japan is going for more realism and dramatic effect, we've seemingly chosen to go the other direction. The US has developed a simple style with usually cornball humor and/or satire, along with the occasional shock value added in. This is great for a casual and relaxing viewing experience, but I wonder if the viewer is lacking something one would normally find in a serial cartoon. Nothing ever progresses in an American cartoon. This may be why Japanese cartoons are a hit with the younger audience in the US. They present a more robust cast and a story-line that usually progresses into some sort of conclusion.

American cartoons are going the route of the American sitcom, and I really don't want to see that happen. Cartoons are a wonderful form of entertainment, and as world famous director Hayao Miyazaki has proven, they can be a stunning form of art.

Apocryphal Fantasies

I was going to rant about something more tangible considering my last post, but my wants don't necessarily line up with my "creative juices," so to speak. Instead, I'll ponder with you another one of my side-line curiosities of human nature. I've seen many shows, commercials, and other forms of advertising that all claim or strive to "make lives better." This isn't really a bad thing per se, as with television, people want to sit down and have an experience they can leave satisfied with. I completely understand that humanity struggles to find its place in the universe and feel if not a sense of joy, then maybe something lighter. My only problem lies with the extent of which people are trying to push this to and the methods they use.

Do tell...

News is there to frighten you into believing that one must heed their reports in order to survive in this crazy and depraved world. It gets the producers and television companies money and in-turn makes them "happier." The viewers are supposed to leave with a sense of accomplishment that they are better informed and therefore, their lives will be improved. Ads selling various forms of objects and consumables all claim that you can't live without these products. Their "stuff" will make you cooler, taller, stronger, more attractive, et al. These ideals are great, but what it boils down to is an artificial lump at the deepest core of reality. Perfection in life does not exist.

Some may say this is just pure negativity, but I don't see it as that. Reality is ebb and flow, push and pull, give and take. One cannot achieve happiness without sadness or loss, but no one is going to buy into something that makes them more depressed. I've read many books about theoretical utopia and heard many a song about paradise. It all seems fake. This eternal lust for perfection in life just leads to stress, want, greed, and eventually apathy and discontent. Many have lost sight of what they have while seeking what they think they need. Though I do not admit myself any better at seeing this than most, it still bugs me to this day. I would rather not strive for a utopia in this world, just for life to suck a little less sometimes.

I wonder if anyone has found their own utopia. It seems like it's not something you can find if you search for it.

The Growth of Cynicism

I notice as I get older, everything becomes more doubtful and negative. While this makes ranting more interesting, I wonder what I may be lacking in following my self proclaimed "realist" view. There's a saying that ignorance is bliss, but if one is learned and is always in the pursuit of seeking knowledge, one is screwed. I've personally tried to erect a nice facade of ignorance to suit others views of what I should be. That facade only hurt and caused me to distance myself from others. So what is one to do if one is intelligent and well read? The answer is quite simple; learn sarcasm and cynicism. It might come easier than expected!

Do tell...

I was told many times as a child that I look down too much. I was told I looked like I was depressed and if I just looked up I'd feel much happier. I tried that and came to the decision that the sun is too bright and I hate fluorescent lighting. Only a few years ago I read a caption to a web comic called Ozzy & Millie that said "When I look down, I miss all the good things in life; but when I look up, I just trip over things." This clicked with me instantly. Finally, a viewpoint consistent with my own experiences and that I understand! Now, I not only follow the path of scientific enlightenment; I follow the path of cynicism, curious disbelief, and general misanthropy. Call it a bad personality or a "problem" if you will. I call it a life choice.

More on this later if I feel the need...