Upon returning home, sitting on my swivel chair with nine holes bulleted through the back and scrunching my toes to make them…feel-able, I felt a freedom liberated from thinking about Homo sapiens and Festinger and my professor’s darling “orgasm phenomenon”. With a mind no longer occupied with academic pitfalls, you tend to feel like there’s a huge chuck of something carved out of your life and left on a silver platter to be infested with bugs and maggots. For some reason, freedom always begets boredom.
And with excessive energy not yet habituated to days filled with absolutely nothing, I began to think of the most completely random of situations.
What constitutes as imagination? A creative imagination, at that? Can’t Albert Einstein and Jack the Ripper both have mentally cultivated minds, bent to different tasks? Sure, Jack didn’t give us a meaning to life, but he fucking killed those hookers with such pizazz. At what point can we, as a society, determine if individual imagination is detrimental or holistic? What if Gandhi’s message of peace and love and probably weed inhibited social growth, possibly even encouraging stagnant progress? We’d never know.
Now that I’m happier [at least to a certain "I'm not going to go ape shit and murder people" extent] I find it harder to write. A certain postsecret I read a couple weeks/months ago reminded me of this. It went something like, “The only way I can write is because I’m fucking emo, but I’ve learned that apparently happy people can crank out pretty damn good literature, too.” That’s me, without the latter. I find myself so much more…cynical and critical of everything now that I’m NOT depressed. Wow, XMRB, I didn’t know I drew from you such a magnitude of inspiration. Not.
I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with this Christian… I lack the last word. Should it be group, fellowship, cult, or evil organization of baby Jim Jones’s? Whatever it is, I can say that I am either on the periphery of becoming a Christian or that I find it slightly… scary that they want to be so invovled in all parts of my life. Understandably, there’s a lot of appeal with you’re walking around whoring yourself out with—unlike prostitutes and sex— kindness and smiles and free food. Plus who doesn’t want to be smothered with great friends and compassionate people if you’ve been living like a pathetic loser or misunderstood adolescent for your entire life? After reading psychology, there’s methods that people use to get you to do what they want. Uhm…I think you’re definitely trying somethin here…
This argument for God [Sorry, but not you, Chris] doesn’t make sense for me. I can’t grasp the logical implications and extrapolations you’re making because I don’t understand the base. And people have told me that religion/faith isn’t like participating in the mental analog of gymnastics; it’s something that you experience and feel. Fine, but surely there must be some level of intelligent reasoning behind this. Besides, if you want to believe in something enough, won’t it come true for you?
There’s a lot of talk about moral disintegration and ethical cataclyms, but this is still the most peaceful era we’ve ever lived in. Is there a correlation? Maybe it’s Jin being mesmerizingly sexy. I don’t know.
Fuck, I forgot my anime back in the dorm, :[
On another note, the platitude of being an early sleeper/waker equates to being happier, wealthier, and wiser might be coming true for me. I woke up at 6:45. That’s the earlier I have EVER woken up this entire year. My roommates and I usually KO in our beds until 12 when we glare at the sound of the knocks on our door telling us to eat lunch. Generally I don’t ascribe to conspiracy theories, but in all honesty, my bed and comforters plot against my emasculated good habits. What a tragedy.
Well, have fun guys.
Oh, by the way. I’M FUCKING HOME. WHOOHOO.