Meandering Existentialism


This article doesn’t have to make sense. But it is of the most extreme import to me. This is the chart, in words, for where I need to be. It may interest you as well. At least you’ll get to know me better. That is if I am making any sense, as defined by you.

I don’t often stop. There is constant movement in my brain. Real movement, with the attention necessary—not just my human senses making neurons do whatever it is they do behind the scenes. I am in a state of constant concentration, concentration is my obsession. I suppose it is my compulsion as well, however compulsion generally assumed control—and that I wield in the category of “scarcely.”

When I do stop, I twitch. If the movement from thing to concentrate on to another thing to concentrate on stops, my body feels the need to… do… something. I barely notice my physical twitching, movements, rocking, all of that. That’s been around since I was a child. It is a mechanism I came packaged with.

But I do stop, and I do step out of concentrating on the future, present, and past. Those three phenomena are generally sub-existential. That is to say they are part of a focused concentration, on specifics. Things, as it were. And when I do stop I find myself a figurative mile up looking upon my world. This world, but it really is mine. Once I’m gone, it ceases to mean anything as far as I am concerned—and I can only be concerned with that which concerns me.

So for the sake of this discussion, that is “The World.”

This is a pretty stupid world. None of it was done correctly, yet it is more than half full of concepts of correctness. That is odd. I have OCD and I need things to be correct by me, and even I can see how absurd that is. Nothing can be correct. Yet I am obsessed with seeing things as incorrect. Note, I see the opposite of what everything around me is grasping to not let go of: entropy

All these rules! Only a handful benefit me, and this is my world. To expand, with every rule that benefits me comes rule breakers to cause ripples in the steady plane I am trying to build. That’s obnoxious.

What the hell do I want? Well, beyond stasis—which is the ultimate objective. But if I achieve pure stasis, that hints at nothingness. It also hints at comfort, and right, and steady. But stasis is not active. In all my obsessions—my charts of how to live—the vertex being stasis, am I pushing myself to a completely inactive life?

While examining the beauty of stasis, is an active life categorically a chaotic one?

I want both. And judging how stupid this world is, I’m going to go ahead and assume I can have both: activity and stasis. Or, at the very least, I can move closer to a situation of just those two things existing in an organized but diametric manner.

I’ve already given up on the multiverse. One can not wormhole into another universe, though I am sure they exist infinitely as I’ve studied. But one, I am one, and I must exist in this universe. The stupid universe1.

Ok, I’ve only partially (very near fully) given up on the multiverse. My obsession with rewinding time suggests I think I can jump into a universe where something from the past did not happen. So indeed, I think all things are possible at the same time. Well, time gets murky here, but we’ll go with it as a such a device for this discussion.

I want to live multiple lives in different worlds simultaneously. Determinism is hellish. I understand singular actions have singular consequences—in this world. I don’t like it, but the linearity is painfully obvious.

Let’s step back into this world, this real world as it were. I do not like where I am. I like me, rather! I, however, don’t like my world. I am consumed with need because of the restrictions of determinism. I need things to be in order so that as I move along the line of time, the results are comfortable. Or so I try. I often fail. Very often.

I see the world, beyond myself, mostly for the people in it. They created a bunch of appliances like money, interpersonal connections and the scales for such, and all those damn rules. I would like to master these three things. I feel if things are going to move in a deterministic line, I must.

But there has to be more!

I’ve left out love and art. It seems to me these things can only be defined by my own self. Oh, there are still rules set by others. But conceptually, is not love and art only really classified by the individual? I’d like more of those two things as well, but I guess that’s up to me. I make art, I am in love. I could do better at both of these things, but they do not seem to be part of the vertex—the goal—discussed previously.

So I am starting at compartments for money, interpersonal connections, rules, love, and art. Five things. There must be more! My initial thought is to use these things as ingredients to mix together to form perfection. But then we’re talking about the prospect of mixing love and money. Of mixing art and interpersonal connections. And so forth. That doesn’t seem not stupid.

So beyond my endless search for active stasis, it seems my destiny is to search for other ingredients—other compartments—that can make up a better world. A less stupid world. A world well thought out. A world organized. A world that doesn’t flow in a straight line from action to consequence. A world where action is merely a throw-away device that can be reworked without problems.

This is what I need to chart out. This is the true me. Not the one here right now. The true me lives in this aforementioned world.



1 Or one of many stupid universes. But this is one of them.  [BACK]