Human beings are strange creatures. We congregate in places where we can pay to derange our consciousness slightly and watch images move around a flat screen as proof positive of an artificial reality, and then we care about what happens as if it really matters.
What?
I know, from days of watching football like this, that no one really determines the outcomes; we are all an expression of a huge tidal wave that could be construed as an expression of the eternal intermingling of various forces.
It’s nice when your team wins, but rooting for that to happen is kind of like cheering for the sun to rise—not necessarily something to be frowned upon, but surely something that has no more effect upon the outcome than does wishing for tomorrow to come.
How strange it is to be so powerfully motivated by pictures of mere ideas; nearly none of it matters in the least, and yet so much of it seems like that’s all there is.
When you juxtapose what you really care about with what’s only a slight preference, it’s easier to see that the former only differs from the latter in your own heart; you can observe others being ridiculously excited by what you disdain; that’s both reassuring and humiliating, depending on your sense of humor about yourself.
Change is inevitable and yet, what qualifies as change keeps changing as well. Just when you think you have something figured out, you realize that you don’t, which means that you do, which means that you don’t, get it?
The idea that it would be better not to have been born at all seems correct here, but given that we have been, then what is one to do? May as well make the best of things, even if what is, in fact, superior, remains a logical possibility.
It ends up being what people care for, weird as those all things that we care for may be.
What?
I know, from days of watching football like this, that no one really determines the outcomes; we are all an expression of a huge tidal wave that could be construed as an expression of the eternal intermingling of various forces.
It’s nice when your team wins, but rooting for that to happen is kind of like cheering for the sun to rise—not necessarily something to be frowned upon, but surely something that has no more effect upon the outcome than does wishing for tomorrow to come.
How strange it is to be so powerfully motivated by pictures of mere ideas; nearly none of it matters in the least, and yet so much of it seems like that’s all there is.
When you juxtapose what you really care about with what’s only a slight preference, it’s easier to see that the former only differs from the latter in your own heart; you can observe others being ridiculously excited by what you disdain; that’s both reassuring and humiliating, depending on your sense of humor about yourself.
Change is inevitable and yet, what qualifies as change keeps changing as well. Just when you think you have something figured out, you realize that you don’t, which means that you do, which means that you don’t, get it?
The idea that it would be better not to have been born at all seems correct here, but given that we have been, then what is one to do? May as well make the best of things, even if what is, in fact, superior, remains a logical possibility.
It ends up being what people care for, weird as those all things that we care for may be.
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