Broken Record
I don't understand what's happening to me. I don't care about anything right now. No, that's totally un-true. I care about many, many things right now. The only thing I don't seem to care about right now is my schoolwork. I just can't seem to muster up the interest or the inspiration to do it.
I know this is pretty much the same thing as my last blog entry, but that's rather appropriate. I've been stuck on this problem for awhile now, with no solution in sight. I could be doing so many interesting things right now, exciting myself in so many ways; instead I'm banging my head against the wall, trying to make something happen against it's will. I don't want to work right now, so why force myself?
I wish I weren't human. I wish I wasn't physical. I wish I were pure abstract consciousness, that didn't need to worry about getting fed or keeping warm. I wish I were existing eternally, without fear of death or disease. I wish that every emotional state was harmless, existing in isolation, without consequence. I wish that there were no ramifications to any of my actions.
What I really wish is that I could be a child forever, being fed and taken care of through no effort of my own. No, to be honest, I wish that someone would just take care of me, give me food, shelter, and healthcare without asking anything from me in return.
I'm not fit for this world. I'm non-functional
Damaged goods;
send me back.
I can't work, I can't achieve.
Send me back.
-Gang of Four
Sometimes I fantasize about going back to live on the streets. It really wasn't a bad situation. I ate everyday, I was always able to find shelter. I would say that I was healthier then than I am now. I wasn't happier, though. I was really bored. I would start in on learning some new skill, or learning about some subject, but it would never lead to anything, because the book I was reading or the object I was manipulating became too much of a hassle to carry around with me anymore: I needed to use my limited carrying capacity for objects of more immediate usefulness, like blankets or extra clothing. So I decided to go back home, so I could store stuff. My plan was that I would work for awhile, buy a van, and travel around in that. But once I got started on the whole working and living indoors thing it was difficult to give it up. It was much more interesting than what I was doing before. And anyway, if I had really bought a van I'd have to have money to keep it running, which would involve work, which would defeat the whole purpose of living on the streets. So I decided to just keep on with the domesticated life. I did have the freedom to hold on to things again; unfortunately, I didn't really have the time to enjoy those things anymore.
I know this is pretty much the same thing as my last blog entry, but that's rather appropriate. I've been stuck on this problem for awhile now, with no solution in sight. I could be doing so many interesting things right now, exciting myself in so many ways; instead I'm banging my head against the wall, trying to make something happen against it's will. I don't want to work right now, so why force myself?
I wish I weren't human. I wish I wasn't physical. I wish I were pure abstract consciousness, that didn't need to worry about getting fed or keeping warm. I wish I were existing eternally, without fear of death or disease. I wish that every emotional state was harmless, existing in isolation, without consequence. I wish that there were no ramifications to any of my actions.
What I really wish is that I could be a child forever, being fed and taken care of through no effort of my own. No, to be honest, I wish that someone would just take care of me, give me food, shelter, and healthcare without asking anything from me in return.
I'm not fit for this world. I'm non-functional
Damaged goods;
send me back.
I can't work, I can't achieve.
Send me back.
-Gang of Four
Sometimes I fantasize about going back to live on the streets. It really wasn't a bad situation. I ate everyday, I was always able to find shelter. I would say that I was healthier then than I am now. I wasn't happier, though. I was really bored. I would start in on learning some new skill, or learning about some subject, but it would never lead to anything, because the book I was reading or the object I was manipulating became too much of a hassle to carry around with me anymore: I needed to use my limited carrying capacity for objects of more immediate usefulness, like blankets or extra clothing. So I decided to go back home, so I could store stuff. My plan was that I would work for awhile, buy a van, and travel around in that. But once I got started on the whole working and living indoors thing it was difficult to give it up. It was much more interesting than what I was doing before. And anyway, if I had really bought a van I'd have to have money to keep it running, which would involve work, which would defeat the whole purpose of living on the streets. So I decided to just keep on with the domesticated life. I did have the freedom to hold on to things again; unfortunately, I didn't really have the time to enjoy those things anymore.
posted by nearfalse | 11:14 PM
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