This uselessness... burdening.
No matter how much I think I was nurtured and sheltered, I'm ultimately still alone.
Only I know what's in the deepest of my mind. Only I know the secret buried underneath the darkest corner. Only I know how it feels to be weighted by my own thoughts and expectations. Only I know the bad things I feel and think of the mostly normal people, out of jealousy and false pretenses. Only I know what I dreamed about last night and how to put it into words.
Yet I still expect people to understand me and point me at the right direction, without even giving them a clue of where I'm trying to head to.
When will I realize my actions are my responsibility, and only mine?
When will I realize that I'm the only one qualified to steer this car?
When will I realize that I'm the captain of my ship, master of my fate?
What do captains do? They decide where to go, guide their underlings and ensure the correct way to go. Captains don't abandon their ship. Captains launch cannonballs at people who laugh at them, because who the fuck are they to think they could steer my ship?
I wish I could be that captain.
Right now instead of fixing the hole in the starboard, I'm writing my travel log.
I left a trace for historians to find me, but I lost sight of what I wanted to be remembered as.
Our vessel is stuck in this hurricane somewhere in the Pacific ocean. Wreck is almost inevitable. I drew another stroke with my quill pen. This is perhaps where we end our journey.
"Well captain, it's romantic and all, you might think," I could hear my crews complaining, "But we're mere workers and our instinct is not to die. Perhaps you could, you know, give us command to fix things around here and we just might survive."
How many people have I dragged down to the bottom of the ocean?
My brain might have convinced me to take the escape route, but my body resists. Just like the captain and their underlings (how dare they). And that indecisiveness has costed a lot of things from everyone. Me, my family, my friends, or strangers that happened to bump shoulders with me on the street. The intangibility of the most precious resources, strayed me away from sight of them.
Attention. Love. Affection.
Just a little human touch. A hug. A grab on the pulse. A feeling of bodily warmth.
Maybe that's all we need, to not be completely miserable.
After all, we are merely a really smart animal, and our primitive brain needs what it had always needed.
Thursday, October 24, 2019
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
Sorry, Finish Line is The Other Way
What's the point? What's the point? What's the point? What's the point? What's the point? What's the point?
I'm never gonna make it, aren't I?
No. I will not back down. Ridiculed and alone, yet I'm still standing. I drew my breath sharper, letting the cool air fill my lungs. I readied my stance, preparing for an attack. The grip of my right hand on my ever loyal sword tightened. Although I am the only one in the world believing this, I will never back down.
Or so I thought. I put my pen down, exhaling slowly. Yet another fantasy, and then back to reality.
I keep avoiding things that I should take responsibility of. I dream of nightmare when the thought occurs, but only when I encounter its remnant or the trace of existence. It's an everlasting homework with prolonged deadline that I stack and leave rotten in the backyard, to be wet with rainfall and singed by the sunlight.
"What have you been doing this past year?" that question kept lingering and smacking the back of my head like a guilt sledgehammer.
I think, all I've been doing this past year is slacking off... but also acquainting myself with the cold reality beyond the classroom walls.
The question trailed off. My mind was a blur. My ears were ringing. My hands shaking.
Ah, I can't deal with this anymore... One question and I was already about to burst into tears. I'm weak.
And weaklings don't get to choose the way they die.
-
I know that the right thing to do now is to work on the stuff that I abandon, and starting now. Soon. Pronto.
I need to assembly the material before the end of this week.
I have to catch up with my task.
I ought to consult on my difficulties instead of bailing.
I should pick up that phone and book another psychologist consultation.
I got to grow up and get my shit together.
Easier said than done. Despite a hundred reasons to improve better as a person, I still can't get out of the bed.
I wonder how long it would take for me to realize this living model does not make any sense?
I wonder when will be my turning point in life to think, "hell, I should act now!"
I haven't been sober. I'm still resisting, refusing to see things clearly.
I wish I was sober.
Maybe, another cry.
Maybe, another cut.
Then I'll cope. Then I'll sober up.
That... never happens, does it?
When will I ever stop running the wrong direction?
I'm never gonna make it, aren't I?
No. I will not back down. Ridiculed and alone, yet I'm still standing. I drew my breath sharper, letting the cool air fill my lungs. I readied my stance, preparing for an attack. The grip of my right hand on my ever loyal sword tightened. Although I am the only one in the world believing this, I will never back down.
Or so I thought. I put my pen down, exhaling slowly. Yet another fantasy, and then back to reality.
I keep avoiding things that I should take responsibility of. I dream of nightmare when the thought occurs, but only when I encounter its remnant or the trace of existence. It's an everlasting homework with prolonged deadline that I stack and leave rotten in the backyard, to be wet with rainfall and singed by the sunlight.
"What have you been doing this past year?" that question kept lingering and smacking the back of my head like a guilt sledgehammer.
I think, all I've been doing this past year is slacking off... but also acquainting myself with the cold reality beyond the classroom walls.
The question trailed off. My mind was a blur. My ears were ringing. My hands shaking.
Ah, I can't deal with this anymore... One question and I was already about to burst into tears. I'm weak.
And weaklings don't get to choose the way they die.
-
I know that the right thing to do now is to work on the stuff that I abandon, and starting now. Soon. Pronto.
I need to assembly the material before the end of this week.
I have to catch up with my task.
I ought to consult on my difficulties instead of bailing.
I should pick up that phone and book another psychologist consultation.
I got to grow up and get my shit together.
Easier said than done. Despite a hundred reasons to improve better as a person, I still can't get out of the bed.
I wonder how long it would take for me to realize this living model does not make any sense?
I wonder when will be my turning point in life to think, "hell, I should act now!"
I haven't been sober. I'm still resisting, refusing to see things clearly.
I wish I was sober.
Maybe, another cry.
Maybe, another cut.
Then I'll cope. Then I'll sober up.
That... never happens, does it?
When will I ever stop running the wrong direction?
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
Resistance Member of The Universal Cause
There's absolutely no rhyme or reason as to why I should be here. Not metaphorically. Not literally. Not essentially. Not existentially. Nothing.
I have had my doubts about future for quite some time now. The previously optimistic utopian soul, corrupted easily by a simple glance of reality. Not even the morbid ones, just ones not par to my expectation. I'm not who I think I am, and I don't think I will ever know who I really am.
In science there's this thing called model theory. It stated that model is how we collectively perceive the natural state of reality. Some philosophers might argue that our brain capability is limited, our senses easily fooled, and we might never perceive reality as it actually is given our limitations. As far as models are concerned, it doesn't matter if the explanation is ontologically 'objects as it is' or not; if it works, it works, and it is to be accepted. Unless there's a better model developed, of course.
An example of this is the model of atom. We all have probably seen illustration of an atom being a bunch of nuclei particles grouped together in the middle, then surrounded by electrons moving in orbits. This is Niels Bohr's atomic model, and as fun and easy it is to think of atoms this way, it had been discovered that it's not entirely precise. Theory of quantum physics came along and it had been established that atomic constituents - electron, proton, and neutron - don't retain the round, deterministic shape. Instead, they take form as both particle and waves - which are practically not visible to human eyes - making the previously conversation-friendly form of atom resembling that of our solar system becomes far more complicated, only sufficiently represented by intricate constants and fragile probability.
Of course, the real question now is: does model theory also work on perceiving people or only for tangible phenomena generally studied in natural science?
My personal answer is yes. If humankind had been having difficulties in comprehending the seemingly perceivable things such as the planets and atoms that they need to develop a mental model, why wouldn't they do it for even more complex phenomena concerning human and their extremely unpredictable behavior?
For the longest time, like it or not, I have been developing positivistic view towards life. I believe that everything is quantifiable to some extent. Laziness? Inertia. Personal opinion? Brain waves. Love? Chemical reaction. Chaos? Entropy. Rather than two sides of the same coin of human perspective, I treat this view as truth. But of course, this is misleading.
This thought only arise because I've been living as the golden pioneering child of the new milennia. Just like communism wouldn't have worked without technological advent in information that enabled centralization (spoiler alert - it's still not working), positive attitude towards the power of quantification wouldn't have been enabled without engineering advancement and rise of silicon brain. Right now each of us own a powerful gadget on the back of our pocket, capable of measuring the surrounding temperature, locating our precise coordinate, all the while sending signal waves to connect us with people from the other side of the world.
It becomes a problem when this perspective is treated as the mere truth to life. Scientists most probably will argue that empirical evidence and proper experiments are the way to the ultimate truth. Sadly, even the brightest of thinkers will still somehow drive towards a brick wall. What if we encounter this one thing we seemingly can't measure? Is it then proven as nonexistent? Or is it just that we haven't found a way to figure out how to measure it?
What is consciousness?
It's been the mystery at the bottom of science for quite a while now. As the consensus of human behavior can be explained through the tracing of chemical traits flow in the brain, consciousness seems to be closing in to something akin to a mere myth. There's no 'deeper meaning' to our existence; it's just chemical loss and gain. Consciousness does not exist. We have no 'central core' to our thoughts and beliefs.
This notion, just like relationship, requires compromise. I personally still deny this sudden accusation that we have no essence as a humankind; nothing that sets us apart from animals. My rigid belief on quantification that supposed to support this idea seems contradictory to my spiritual health. I'm at a crossroad. I compromise towards the concept that this 'consciousness' thing is inquantifiable. The 'symptom' is measurable, but the 'cause' itself is beyond our sensible explanation. I want to make peace with the notion that not everything is measurable - maybe not yet, maybe not ever. Maybe the time where it would make sense is not now, maybe not ever. Perhaps it's something beyond our organic brain's limitation - just like trying to imagine a 10th dimension or seeing electromagnetic waves outside the visible spectrum.
It's always such a blast to think about metaphysical wonders like this, but I'm afraid this is only a modern-time exercise in futility. The daydream of millenial culture. The masturbatory ego of cognitive exhibition. It's easy to point fingers at people who think like this (me) and remark to them (me), "Who cares?"
The answer, my friend, is "Nobody."
No one cares about this writing. No one cares about how I as a member of society spend my Monday night stargazing upon the pollution-ridden urban sky. No one cares about your pessimistic take on life unless they're your equally pathetic friend. No one cares about our future as humankind other than those who attempted to shape it. And the universe certainly doesn't give a damn about us.
There's no reason for any of us to be here. But who cares? You're still here anyway. Might as well make it fun and worthy while you're at it.
I have had my doubts about future for quite some time now. The previously optimistic utopian soul, corrupted easily by a simple glance of reality. Not even the morbid ones, just ones not par to my expectation. I'm not who I think I am, and I don't think I will ever know who I really am.
In science there's this thing called model theory. It stated that model is how we collectively perceive the natural state of reality. Some philosophers might argue that our brain capability is limited, our senses easily fooled, and we might never perceive reality as it actually is given our limitations. As far as models are concerned, it doesn't matter if the explanation is ontologically 'objects as it is' or not; if it works, it works, and it is to be accepted. Unless there's a better model developed, of course.
An example of this is the model of atom. We all have probably seen illustration of an atom being a bunch of nuclei particles grouped together in the middle, then surrounded by electrons moving in orbits. This is Niels Bohr's atomic model, and as fun and easy it is to think of atoms this way, it had been discovered that it's not entirely precise. Theory of quantum physics came along and it had been established that atomic constituents - electron, proton, and neutron - don't retain the round, deterministic shape. Instead, they take form as both particle and waves - which are practically not visible to human eyes - making the previously conversation-friendly form of atom resembling that of our solar system becomes far more complicated, only sufficiently represented by intricate constants and fragile probability.
Of course, the real question now is: does model theory also work on perceiving people or only for tangible phenomena generally studied in natural science?
My personal answer is yes. If humankind had been having difficulties in comprehending the seemingly perceivable things such as the planets and atoms that they need to develop a mental model, why wouldn't they do it for even more complex phenomena concerning human and their extremely unpredictable behavior?
For the longest time, like it or not, I have been developing positivistic view towards life. I believe that everything is quantifiable to some extent. Laziness? Inertia. Personal opinion? Brain waves. Love? Chemical reaction. Chaos? Entropy. Rather than two sides of the same coin of human perspective, I treat this view as truth. But of course, this is misleading.
This thought only arise because I've been living as the golden pioneering child of the new milennia. Just like communism wouldn't have worked without technological advent in information that enabled centralization (spoiler alert - it's still not working), positive attitude towards the power of quantification wouldn't have been enabled without engineering advancement and rise of silicon brain. Right now each of us own a powerful gadget on the back of our pocket, capable of measuring the surrounding temperature, locating our precise coordinate, all the while sending signal waves to connect us with people from the other side of the world.
It becomes a problem when this perspective is treated as the mere truth to life. Scientists most probably will argue that empirical evidence and proper experiments are the way to the ultimate truth. Sadly, even the brightest of thinkers will still somehow drive towards a brick wall. What if we encounter this one thing we seemingly can't measure? Is it then proven as nonexistent? Or is it just that we haven't found a way to figure out how to measure it?
What is consciousness?
It's been the mystery at the bottom of science for quite a while now. As the consensus of human behavior can be explained through the tracing of chemical traits flow in the brain, consciousness seems to be closing in to something akin to a mere myth. There's no 'deeper meaning' to our existence; it's just chemical loss and gain. Consciousness does not exist. We have no 'central core' to our thoughts and beliefs.
This notion, just like relationship, requires compromise. I personally still deny this sudden accusation that we have no essence as a humankind; nothing that sets us apart from animals. My rigid belief on quantification that supposed to support this idea seems contradictory to my spiritual health. I'm at a crossroad. I compromise towards the concept that this 'consciousness' thing is inquantifiable. The 'symptom' is measurable, but the 'cause' itself is beyond our sensible explanation. I want to make peace with the notion that not everything is measurable - maybe not yet, maybe not ever. Maybe the time where it would make sense is not now, maybe not ever. Perhaps it's something beyond our organic brain's limitation - just like trying to imagine a 10th dimension or seeing electromagnetic waves outside the visible spectrum.
It's always such a blast to think about metaphysical wonders like this, but I'm afraid this is only a modern-time exercise in futility. The daydream of millenial culture. The masturbatory ego of cognitive exhibition. It's easy to point fingers at people who think like this (me) and remark to them (me), "Who cares?"
The answer, my friend, is "Nobody."
No one cares about this writing. No one cares about how I as a member of society spend my Monday night stargazing upon the pollution-ridden urban sky. No one cares about your pessimistic take on life unless they're your equally pathetic friend. No one cares about our future as humankind other than those who attempted to shape it. And the universe certainly doesn't give a damn about us.
There's no reason for any of us to be here. But who cares? You're still here anyway. Might as well make it fun and worthy while you're at it.
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