27 May 2006
Enter/ManicExpressive Exit/RyanVergel
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It's 3:53am.
I can't sleep.
My damn fan is making noise for 3 seconds, every ten seconds. Like an atomic clock of annoyance.
"You're like the missile kind, little kingdoms in your chest."
Have you ever sat and thought about things you did in the past? How much of a little prick you were, or how bratty or snobby you were?
Maybe one day your dad was really busy, had to go somewhere- in a rush. You bitch and moan about a promised toy. He says to you "_____, I am very busy, but I have a deal. You can make me take you to the toy store, which will make me late, to buy you that toy. You can do that, or you can wait until tomorrow, and I will buy you the biggest toy you want." Being the little dickhead you are, the impatient, selfish, bratty fuck- you take the former. You want that toy NOW. You have no comprehension of other people's feelings. You do not understand investment and reward.
Or maybe as a child you felt the drive and need to kill animals.
Perhaps you would hunt lizards, and torture them. You would take perfume, pour them on a lizard that you stapled to a piece of cardboard, find matches, and watch the reptile burn alive and squirm. Or you would use a nailgun and have target practice at the creature. Perhaps force-feed a lizard some cleaning products. Maybe nail it's mouth shut. Maybe drown a few in a pool by tying them down, so that the oxygen bubbles would slowly deplete.
Maybe you played with larger game. A Cat? Turtle? Chicken? Whatever it was. Maybe one day you felt the desire to place a new kitten in a toy chest, sit on the lid, and suffocate it. Or perhaps you got upset at a turtle for wandering off, and responded by throwing it against a stucco wall until all you could see was modern art. Hammer+baby chick=
I was a deranged child. Turns out I was a genius though. I questioned the existence and logic of Santa Claus before I could understand why I was different than my family. Apparently being a different skin color went above and beyond me, but I had a difficulty believing Santa Claus could come into my chimney-less house, along with all the other millions of kids-even the kids with no houses at all, the ones who got nothing for Christmas except cold and suffering, and deliver presents.
Genius is marked by insanity is marked by loneliness.
In ten minutes I've managed to tell you a story you probably didn't care about.
I thrive on company. I hate being alone. I hate the thought of being alone. I hate the thought of dying alone. And everyone dies alone. I hate death, and I gave it away so freely as a child. Maybe the more I gave away the less there would be for me.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
---
The glory of Hamlet. The most important question ever asked. To BE or NOT to be, What is nobler, what is right? Is the easy path the right path? Is the hard path even worth it? What does death hold for us? What proof or validation does death offer?
More importantly, what proof does life offer? What in life will tell us what happens in death? That which attempts to tell us lacks in so many ways. Why should I believe in God when the first "cause" being God seems just as likely as the first "cause being the Big Bang. How is God all-loving when men are created to suffer? What is the purpose of life when we are to die, why bother with it all? If our destiny is known, by both the Creator and ourselves[a destiny of death] what purpose is it to have been made at all? What are we, mere mortals-incapable of understanding perfection, to offer? Does God have self-esteem problems? Is God going through his awkward teen years which so plagues us all?
We have no free will if we cannot change our ultimate destiny, which is God's will. We are not loved if we are created to go to Hell. We are truly alone in our lives and in our ends. We are alone in the destructive and hostile universe. We have no true truth, no validation, no reason or purpose or security. We are hurtling through an unknown space, with unknown rules and boundaries, set here by an unknown cause with unknown endings. We are insignificant specks on an insignificant dot rotating round an insignificant blip in the incomprehensibly large universe.
"Have Faith, Ryan." Faith in what, I ask? Why have faith in anything? Why not have faith in everything if I'm going to have faith in one thing? Jesus seems just as possible as Apollo or Ganesha, does He not?
"Do not try to wrap your mind around infinite things, Ryan." What is truly infinite? What does not have boundaries? Rules? Laws? Exceptions? The Universe only has so much mass, is only so large, and is following certain rules. God is imprisoned within the Bible, He must be what He is described as being, otherwise He is not what He is supposed to be, and is therefore not what people are worshiping. Thus, even God has limits. Why should I not try to question existence? My mind and boundaries seem just as limited or limitless as the Universe. There are more possible brain states(formations of particular connections) than atoms in the universe(Thank you Carl Sagan). Why not judge God; if He made me, it must be my purpose. If He did not make me, then why not attempt to understand the universe?
I'm trying to sift and sort through existence, I need something to ground me. I need some solace, I need some sort of reassurance. I need to know what I am, what I am here for, where I could have come from(or at least where I did NOT come from).
I live for the hope that there is no end. I live for the hope that I can understand myself and my surroundings. I live for the hope that I won't have to find out what the end is like; I don't want to die. I know what my life calling is; I know what I want.
I see so many people hurrying about their lives, doing nothing. They achieve nothing meaningful, they've thought nothing grand, they've tried for nothing magnificent. Everyone seems to be complacent in their superficial lives. Money, sex, wealth, material things will somehow make them happy. No intelligence or creativity or real purpose or change in life. Makes me sick.
Take a look at your lives, everyone. Do you truly matter? Does being a rich doctor matter? Don't settle in whatever you do, make something, do something, BE something.
Don't waste life and don't take life away-it's the only unknown we have, so don't try to measure it's value- DO NOT TAKE IT FOR GRANTED.
4:43am
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It's 3:53am.
I can't sleep.
My damn fan is making noise for 3 seconds, every ten seconds. Like an atomic clock of annoyance.
"You're like the missile kind, little kingdoms in your chest."
Have you ever sat and thought about things you did in the past? How much of a little prick you were, or how bratty or snobby you were?
Maybe one day your dad was really busy, had to go somewhere- in a rush. You bitch and moan about a promised toy. He says to you "_____, I am very busy, but I have a deal. You can make me take you to the toy store, which will make me late, to buy you that toy. You can do that, or you can wait until tomorrow, and I will buy you the biggest toy you want." Being the little dickhead you are, the impatient, selfish, bratty fuck- you take the former. You want that toy NOW. You have no comprehension of other people's feelings. You do not understand investment and reward.
Or maybe as a child you felt the drive and need to kill animals.
Perhaps you would hunt lizards, and torture them. You would take perfume, pour them on a lizard that you stapled to a piece of cardboard, find matches, and watch the reptile burn alive and squirm. Or you would use a nailgun and have target practice at the creature. Perhaps force-feed a lizard some cleaning products. Maybe nail it's mouth shut. Maybe drown a few in a pool by tying them down, so that the oxygen bubbles would slowly deplete.
Maybe you played with larger game. A Cat? Turtle? Chicken? Whatever it was. Maybe one day you felt the desire to place a new kitten in a toy chest, sit on the lid, and suffocate it. Or perhaps you got upset at a turtle for wandering off, and responded by throwing it against a stucco wall until all you could see was modern art. Hammer+baby chick=
I was a deranged child. Turns out I was a genius though. I questioned the existence and logic of Santa Claus before I could understand why I was different than my family. Apparently being a different skin color went above and beyond me, but I had a difficulty believing Santa Claus could come into my chimney-less house, along with all the other millions of kids-even the kids with no houses at all, the ones who got nothing for Christmas except cold and suffering, and deliver presents.
Genius is marked by insanity is marked by loneliness.
In ten minutes I've managed to tell you a story you probably didn't care about.
I thrive on company. I hate being alone. I hate the thought of being alone. I hate the thought of dying alone. And everyone dies alone. I hate death, and I gave it away so freely as a child. Maybe the more I gave away the less there would be for me.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
---
The glory of Hamlet. The most important question ever asked. To BE or NOT to be, What is nobler, what is right? Is the easy path the right path? Is the hard path even worth it? What does death hold for us? What proof or validation does death offer?
More importantly, what proof does life offer? What in life will tell us what happens in death? That which attempts to tell us lacks in so many ways. Why should I believe in God when the first "cause" being God seems just as likely as the first "cause being the Big Bang. How is God all-loving when men are created to suffer? What is the purpose of life when we are to die, why bother with it all? If our destiny is known, by both the Creator and ourselves[a destiny of death] what purpose is it to have been made at all? What are we, mere mortals-incapable of understanding perfection, to offer? Does God have self-esteem problems? Is God going through his awkward teen years which so plagues us all?
We have no free will if we cannot change our ultimate destiny, which is God's will. We are not loved if we are created to go to Hell. We are truly alone in our lives and in our ends. We are alone in the destructive and hostile universe. We have no true truth, no validation, no reason or purpose or security. We are hurtling through an unknown space, with unknown rules and boundaries, set here by an unknown cause with unknown endings. We are insignificant specks on an insignificant dot rotating round an insignificant blip in the incomprehensibly large universe.
"Have Faith, Ryan." Faith in what, I ask? Why have faith in anything? Why not have faith in everything if I'm going to have faith in one thing? Jesus seems just as possible as Apollo or Ganesha, does He not?
"Do not try to wrap your mind around infinite things, Ryan." What is truly infinite? What does not have boundaries? Rules? Laws? Exceptions? The Universe only has so much mass, is only so large, and is following certain rules. God is imprisoned within the Bible, He must be what He is described as being, otherwise He is not what He is supposed to be, and is therefore not what people are worshiping. Thus, even God has limits. Why should I not try to question existence? My mind and boundaries seem just as limited or limitless as the Universe. There are more possible brain states(formations of particular connections) than atoms in the universe(Thank you Carl Sagan). Why not judge God; if He made me, it must be my purpose. If He did not make me, then why not attempt to understand the universe?
I'm trying to sift and sort through existence, I need something to ground me. I need some solace, I need some sort of reassurance. I need to know what I am, what I am here for, where I could have come from(or at least where I did NOT come from).
I live for the hope that there is no end. I live for the hope that I can understand myself and my surroundings. I live for the hope that I won't have to find out what the end is like; I don't want to die. I know what my life calling is; I know what I want.
I see so many people hurrying about their lives, doing nothing. They achieve nothing meaningful, they've thought nothing grand, they've tried for nothing magnificent. Everyone seems to be complacent in their superficial lives. Money, sex, wealth, material things will somehow make them happy. No intelligence or creativity or real purpose or change in life. Makes me sick.
Take a look at your lives, everyone. Do you truly matter? Does being a rich doctor matter? Don't settle in whatever you do, make something, do something, BE something.
Don't waste life and don't take life away-it's the only unknown we have, so don't try to measure it's value- DO NOT TAKE IT FOR GRANTED.
4:43am
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