It was easier to tear myself away from the house today, beyond that the Indomitable I will be taking me for a much belated unemployment drunk later, because the wooden floors in the front rooms are being refinished today. Without that, the Woman's studio below is a zoological cacophony with the hungry cries of the pied crow mingling with the hysterical warbling of the jay caused by the presence of the Pomeranian that the Woman is dogsitting this weekend. Strange are the days in House D.
Again I should have written more this week, but whenever I attempted to do so, my words were a long repetitive whine about the injustice of it all. Things are looking up some, which is probably the only reason I can string enough words together outside of the usual kvetch about metaphysical crisis and unfulfilled longings. As it is, I'm getting the feeling that I am simply justifying the same kind of depressive collapse that always happens when I can't hold it together, with just a brighter and shinier logical set of complex parameters. The only still apparent truth is that whatever I need to do really is beyond me to generate, and I'll have to bide my time and do something unspeakable, trust in the universe that the probabilities meant to be will appear in my sensory field. I've been talking to an understanding friend online much lately, but his helpfulness is not in content, more in context. He is in his early twenties, redefining himself outside of his frame into a new modality of life, and I've ignored how much easier (a very relative easier, like the difference between sitting in an oven at 350 degrees, over 450 degrees,) to change your neurological baseline connections at that age, than at mine in the mid-30s. It's not that I am all that old, I've only hit the average lifespan mid-way mark. But I've not factored my age into the quotient of neurological conversion. Rewriting the neural software is a greater uphill fight, and my sense of my age is already askew, as I tend to count my birth from eighteen, after the Great Breakdown, than from my actual womb ejection. It's an important failure of perspective that I should consider, getting past my vanity of my self-awareness.
No matter how much I try to philosophically empty time and space of meaning and substance, I am still a creature that exists in this physical sense frame. More likely is that I'm subconsciously denying the power of my past, and the effect of that on my memory. I'm wondering if the reason my memory is as bad as it is, is not solely ADHD, but a psychoneural rewiring done by unconscious need to reject the pain of my past, and the stave off mental instabilities that would weaken my deeply held survival-living baseline. So much of my life has been focused on the task of holding on, less for my nobler belief that I always held a thread of hope, but more for my obstinate refusal to let my parents, and the world as the projection of them, to win. (Just a side note here. Fuck you, Freud. And now back to our regular deprogramming.) I've always valued how my childhood still lead to a fresh individual process of thought, but I've never fully examined the cost, because to do so would be to question the core control. So, I've hobbled along with constraints that remove a sense of time from my sensory perspective, as what came before literally vanishes from my reality. I feel unable to hold onto the accomplishments of my past, flushed along with failures from the memory. That itself is a fallacy, because I can't flush pain.
What I've done through my intellect to my own programming is simpler at the source code, due to the basic regularity of emotional input, and only complicates in execution to the response to continued experience. And now, those circuits established by the program are imprinted harder than I want to allow. It's no wonder that I seem to live one way, and think it to be a different way. The experience is more absolute, the internal response more relative.
Ego tells me that I should be able to self-generate the catalyst that cracks open the pathways and allow for the full rewiring I'll need to surpass the baseline stasis. Without ego, that still seems to be true, but then when am I without the supremacy of ego? I will have to accept that externality is much more necessary than I want to believe. But due to free will, I am still responsible for the openess to awareness/creation of the externalities that come along I might need to follow. In simpler words, this sucks because the process looks like it will take more time, and I'll have to be more patient, and not wait for the great occurence, but keep building experience until it pushes with overcoming force.
Then again, I could just be doing the same thing now that I've always been doing, which is trying to make something out of my control to happen in a manner I can control. Fuck it. At this rate, the revolution will probably come before any of this, anyway.
Again I should have written more this week, but whenever I attempted to do so, my words were a long repetitive whine about the injustice of it all. Things are looking up some, which is probably the only reason I can string enough words together outside of the usual kvetch about metaphysical crisis and unfulfilled longings. As it is, I'm getting the feeling that I am simply justifying the same kind of depressive collapse that always happens when I can't hold it together, with just a brighter and shinier logical set of complex parameters. The only still apparent truth is that whatever I need to do really is beyond me to generate, and I'll have to bide my time and do something unspeakable, trust in the universe that the probabilities meant to be will appear in my sensory field. I've been talking to an understanding friend online much lately, but his helpfulness is not in content, more in context. He is in his early twenties, redefining himself outside of his frame into a new modality of life, and I've ignored how much easier (a very relative easier, like the difference between sitting in an oven at 350 degrees, over 450 degrees,) to change your neurological baseline connections at that age, than at mine in the mid-30s. It's not that I am all that old, I've only hit the average lifespan mid-way mark. But I've not factored my age into the quotient of neurological conversion. Rewriting the neural software is a greater uphill fight, and my sense of my age is already askew, as I tend to count my birth from eighteen, after the Great Breakdown, than from my actual womb ejection. It's an important failure of perspective that I should consider, getting past my vanity of my self-awareness.
No matter how much I try to philosophically empty time and space of meaning and substance, I am still a creature that exists in this physical sense frame. More likely is that I'm subconsciously denying the power of my past, and the effect of that on my memory. I'm wondering if the reason my memory is as bad as it is, is not solely ADHD, but a psychoneural rewiring done by unconscious need to reject the pain of my past, and the stave off mental instabilities that would weaken my deeply held survival-living baseline. So much of my life has been focused on the task of holding on, less for my nobler belief that I always held a thread of hope, but more for my obstinate refusal to let my parents, and the world as the projection of them, to win. (Just a side note here. Fuck you, Freud. And now back to our regular deprogramming.) I've always valued how my childhood still lead to a fresh individual process of thought, but I've never fully examined the cost, because to do so would be to question the core control. So, I've hobbled along with constraints that remove a sense of time from my sensory perspective, as what came before literally vanishes from my reality. I feel unable to hold onto the accomplishments of my past, flushed along with failures from the memory. That itself is a fallacy, because I can't flush pain.
What I've done through my intellect to my own programming is simpler at the source code, due to the basic regularity of emotional input, and only complicates in execution to the response to continued experience. And now, those circuits established by the program are imprinted harder than I want to allow. It's no wonder that I seem to live one way, and think it to be a different way. The experience is more absolute, the internal response more relative.
Ego tells me that I should be able to self-generate the catalyst that cracks open the pathways and allow for the full rewiring I'll need to surpass the baseline stasis. Without ego, that still seems to be true, but then when am I without the supremacy of ego? I will have to accept that externality is much more necessary than I want to believe. But due to free will, I am still responsible for the openess to awareness/creation of the externalities that come along I might need to follow. In simpler words, this sucks because the process looks like it will take more time, and I'll have to be more patient, and not wait for the great occurence, but keep building experience until it pushes with overcoming force.
Then again, I could just be doing the same thing now that I've always been doing, which is trying to make something out of my control to happen in a manner I can control. Fuck it. At this rate, the revolution will probably come before any of this, anyway.
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