I had a thought once

WARNING: the following body of work lies not as one cohesive unit, but more of a smattering of thoughts. I found these thoughts intriguing and wanted to expound a bit, but currently lack the focus. 

Time breeds wisdom and opportunity for intellectual growth.
   on one hand: wisdom brings peace and strength.

   on the other hand: intelligence brings loneliness, bitterness and - very usually - arrogance/apathy.

Between the two (wisdom and intelligence) lies a constant battle to have a conscience. 

Furthermore: without a conscience, one will surely find it very difficult to attract/keep company of a certain quality, indeed. This will only perpetuate the loneliness and bitterness. The clinging desperation for company only grows. 

Respectively: in gathering peace and strength, one gains company. Without even trying. Company is actively attracted to these attributes, intrinsically. Of course, ironically; when one has these attractive attributes, one does not usually (possibly ever) crave company. Or at least certainly not enough to feel a kind of remorse without it. Nor to sacrifice quality for the sensation of it. 

The wiser one becomes (the more at peace/strong/patient), the more comfortable/content one is in spending time only "with" oneself. 

So if you find yourself battling with feeling/being lonely due to an influx of intelligence, fear not; the wiser you get, the less it will bother you and the more you will find joy in other sensations. And the more time that passes, the more wisdom-gaining opportunities you will be presented with. 

Not many people even have the wherewithal to deny their sweet tooth, let alone their craving for touch.

Perhaps monogamy is simply too much to ask of certain people. 

(Thank you, thought-provoking-N, for this term)*
Levinas* - "infinity"; needing another human interaction to verify experience.

the concept of perpetuating information, an event, a period of time, etc... by way of sharing. 
essentially this is what social media is. 

perhaps this is why we were so attracted to it in the first place; it is instinctual.

I wonder if the creators of these platforms formed them around this kind of thought/concept.

your tree in the woods could have broken the sound barrier and it would never officially "matter".

it's natural to want to share; instinctual. if for no other reason than (likely originally) to impart wisdom. 

and what was initially meant for teaching became an enormous part of our psychology/philosophy on the quality of life. Just one more thing we modern-day humans do without thinking / considering / truly knowing or really caring why. Are we social because it is enjoyable, shallowly? In that cup-of-coffee-with-friends way? Or is it more a tool of a core survival / growth of/for species?

regardless of how it started, it quickly became something else. i.e.: you want to make that person / competitor / enemy / frenemy / ex-/current-lover jealous? there's one way to at least feel as though you've done it. whether or not they ever even end up seeing that post / story. although, you're in luck! the platforms have been designed so you can see - you can tell - which people have seen it / reacted to it. you can spend hours pouring over your posts, sifting through piles veritable strangers, searching for that person. oh, what fun.

of course, the same can be said about a purer motive: some of us are just lonely. some of us just want to feel as though we have someone. we have connected. no matter how shallow. and if we haven't achieved even that? well at least we can feel as though we have. we can peel the plastic backings off of our GenuineConnection Patches (tm) and slap them on an unencumbered limb. I get instagram brand, I wonder what kind you get?? Oh, right, nobody actually connects. Doi! What a total goofball! 

whether for spite or genuine human connection/affirmation, that is by and large the use. we are sending out signals in the hope that someone received it. In the hope that someone contacts the poster as evidence the poster is not alone.

 Although, I must say: some people just use social media as a fun little past-time, photo-album, to-do list (recipes, cleaning hacks, fitness, travel, fashion) and less depressing things of the like. It's not all dark and somber. 

Inevitability

I have been inspired by an excerpt I have read: the original, full article is linked below and credit goes fully to a friend who posted the excerpt on facebook. He certainly reads the kinds of things that I very typically shy away from. (Thanks, N, for stimulating my brain.)

Now, in the interest of being transparent: I have not read this entire article. I might never read this entire article. This blog is not meant as a dissertation upon said article. I simply did the thing I usually do where I hear/read something complex, chew it/swallow it/decide to write an opinionated blog about the dregs remaining between my teeth. (So much so that by the end of this blog there will be nothing left of the original topic.)

This article served as a callback to many topics and thoughts I have previously pondered. From social media being our inherent downfall to the theory I blogged about where humans have outgrown their purpose down to the simple decision I made many years ago: (on suicide:) I'm going to get my way eventually and die anyway, so I guess I might as well do the things I like to do until then. 

In addition to the callback (and branch-offs) of many dusty theories, this article brought something new to my attention: some people really just refuse to play the game. 

In my unscholarly opinion, this goes beyond nihilism. Of simply poo-pooing the "playing of the game" and deciding life is meaningless. I doubt I will ever fight anyone on the thought of life being meaningless (until I get old and find a sudden interest in local Christianity, out of inevitable desperation). What I mean is some people truly refuse to believe they have ever been happy. Of course there is little I can do or say about this for many reasons, one of them being: I truly refuse to believe it is possible that a person has never truly been happy. Those who hail from (what we would consider to be) the absolute darkest depths of ruin experience happiness. Because it is in our blood to experience "hope". 

Whether you like it or not, you crusty old non-believer. 

I have known a few in my time here who subscribe to the opinion that happiness is not important to them. That they refuse to waste their time working toward it. While I've got news, Buster. You ever go into a relationship with someone you like spending time with? Friendly or otherwise? Have you ever purchased a movie you liked? Have you ever brought home your favorite snack? That single feat alone is proof of the pursuit of happiness/your own will and drive to do so. It would literally be more effort to not strive for joy of some sort. So really all you're accomplishing when you say things like "Happiness isn't my goal" is unnecessary dramatics. (And, very usually, a slight irritation in the person you tell.)

One last thing before I go (may the old and crusty avert thine eyes):

We all have had our moments of defeat and withdrawal. Of giving up, of slacking, of convincing ourselves of seeing the last straw before we plummet into a sort of darkness. Somehow our inherent human-ness prevails. Always. And at the end of a life span, I think you will find more moments of hope and drive than any kind of defeat. 

original article:

https://isi.org/modern-age/the-great-stagnation-or-decline-and-fall/?fbclid=IwAR0BHIAJ25jLOS9mELRFr1Pzr5CFICXd1GuPSWUM3Jw9mdRI-imOJvB36wI

Privacy

 My mother caught me a bit off-guard when she told me I had always been a “private person”.

This comment was not rude or hurtful. It wasn’t even inaccurate. It simply caught me because I had completely forgotten that being private was such an enormous part of my personality. 

Privacy was a glaringly obvious trait of mine when I was younger, but that was back when I had only lived so long and only collected/decided on so many traits. There were less to keep track of and less to take up the finite amount of space. Ergo the qualities that I did have were massive (as they anxiously awaited better company).

I did three things and was obvious about it.

(On the offchance you’re interested: 1. Keep things private 2. obsess 3. panic.)

On my journey, I had forgotten that piece of myself. I watched on as it was slowly dwarfed by the newcomers. (Picture big, clunky football players shuffling their way into a small room: “Excuse me, e-excuse me, oop! Sorry ‘bout that, little guy. Excuse me…”.)

My mother then speculated: “So strange. I wonder why you are that way.”

Now that we’ve had the ridiculously long set-up for no reason whatsoever: All of this got me thinking; how did I end up this way?

Obviously I can only hypothesize as to how my own attributes came to be, let alone another’s. But I think it’s interesting to ponder and fun to type out and if you don’t know this by now then I just don’t know what to tell you.

If I had to suppose, I would say my fight for privacy likely sprung from when I was younger (when do these things not?). I had a hovering, suspicious mother, a teasing, nosy sister and a father who thought it more polite to not talk. This very likely resulted in not wanting to say anything (so it wouldn’t be used against me by the sis), not getting the chance to (when my mother found it out from my diary) and finally thinking it just as well (because at least my father wouldn’t mistake me for being impolite).

I wasn’t interested in socializing, which is just as well considering I was so crap at it. When I did socialize it was all too stressful and my defense mechanism just so happens to be shutting down. It all came together in a truly magnificently unhealthy cocktail for a growing frontal lobe. 

On the few occasions I managed to share an iota of myself, others might judge or tease or use said iota against me (only the truly criminal were able to acheive such feats with such little material). Was I too sensitive? Arguably so. And even as my skin thickened and I cared less about others’ opinions of me, I still kept to myself. I find it so irritating when others are so quick to expose (what I would argue is) the worst of themselves in the interest of getting a shot in / making themselves feel better about their own insecurities. I’d just as soon not deal with it. 

And who cares about my news, really? Who is genuinely interested in what I have to say, purely just to hear it? I’m sure I don’t know, but after years of the self-important interrupting my words, the odds appeared to be against me. Which is perfectly fine (don’t cry for me, Argentina) as I, too, am uninterested in some peoples’ stories. What’s fair is fair. 

This is also just as well as I - for reasons I will not bother to speculate, as this blog is already unlawfully long and very much about nothing - also find it irritating when I am being grilled. When it feels like someone is just digging into me for their next scoop to the Morning Gazette. Although I have to wonder if I would still feel this way if I had felt like people genuinely and generally cared about what I had to say. Hm.

I can't help but also find it odd that, despite all of my mouth-shutting, I certainly am one to have too-open a trap and say things others may not feel comfortable saying. Or hearing, depending. It's strange being private while simultaneously being completely genuine and honest. Anyway, I guess that’s about all I can ponder on this at the moment. Glad to be blogging again. Til next time.