You ever have that feeling that you're alone in the world?
What the fuck am I doing, starting out a daylog on such a useless, amorphous subject as the human experiene? Consciousness is a bitch. It is perhaps there, then, that I need to focus my attention. The denizens of this biosphere, thin segment as they are between a thousand miles of rock and lava and the infinite expanse of space, like to believe that they are special. Yes, they strut around their plane of existence as if they were god, rather than knowing god. Are they yet ready to deal with the fact that they are the byproduct of something so much more complex and gratifying than their personified god, while concurrently being the result of a certain bacteria's exposure to interesting radiation at just the right time?
I humbly doubt it.
Human beings love to recognize the patterns inherent in the world around them. For some, it is the only purpose of a short, nasty and brutish life. Others see God, like a Magic Eye shape jumping out at you. And yet, I can't help but recognize these polar opposites as being the poles of a magnet. They are necessary to the electrical field, as it were, and all the energies that float in such a system.
We are nothing.
We are everything.
Not to go too crazy, over-the-top Zen on everyone here, but we are in fact both. We are the wave and the particle. Do not observe us and we exist as pure potential. Observe us and you may catch us in a state of being that is simply a sentence on a page. A footnote appended at the end of an encyclopedic life. This is our fate. We are 'condemned to freedom.'
I am not your judge, just as the old bearded man who floats on a cloud cares about commandments carved in stone thousands of years ago as much as he delights in your fancies.
Just fucking choose. Have faith. Sacrifice yourself. Take a chance. Don't give a fuck.
"May I never be complete. May I never be content. May I never be perfect. Deliver me, Tyler, from being perfect and complete."*