There’s knowing the path and then there’s walking the path. with a dash of alienation.

I often talk about the irrational sources of suffering and from the way I write you’d be forgiven for thinking that I have it all sorted.

But you would be wrong.

Over the last year – the interregnum between my last consistent blogging and during the recent revival of blogging since I started anxiety meds – I have been in a depressed slump.

I try to blame this on not having a girl-friend. Which is only partly true.

I crave sex and intimacy. To be with someone who enjoys me for my mind, personality and body. Who I enjoy for their mind, body and personality.

But that isn’t all I crave.

I don’t even think it’s the main thing I crave.

I’m a philosopher.

It’s what the voice in my head does when I let it do what it wants..

Due to social anxiety and laziness I only ever finished the first year of college.

This has left me alienated in a world of people who talk about things that don’t interest me.

That doesn’t mean certain types of conversation are better than others. It’s just a statement of my personal preference.

A world where if I am to talk about what interests me; that is act spontaneously, I either take the role of teacher and/or make people feel stupid.

Literally my mind’s off-switch is pondering philosophical issues. Issues like free-will; what kinds of questions it is possible to answer (I currently think it’s “What will happen if I do this?” and even that’s just a bet based on previous experience (Hume’s problem of induction)); what is knowledge and are we conning ourselves into thinking that knowledge and language are equal.

Also social analysis.

I was at a funeral once.

At the wake I said to someone “He’s no longer suffering. Funerals are just rituals the living use to unnecessarily justify or give themselves a legitimate means of grieving.”

To which he responded: “You’re heartless!”

I was trying to make him feel better about our mate dying. That was my intention.

But now I’m going to do something about it. My plan shall be in the next blog.

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In a Slump

In a Slump.

 

I’m in a similar position. There’s only so many knock-backs you can take before you start to think “Am I an alien? Am I on the right planet, amongst the right people, am I right!”

And what the bleep does right mean anyway” what is it that makes two people click? It certainly isn’t shared interests because loads of couples happily get along without sharing interests. I mean stereotypical man is a sports loving meat-head who hates the dainty womany things woman love.

It’s not even love I think! Have you seen the arguments some of these “Lovers” have. Admittedly they do seem to have great sex after it…

Maybe that’s all it is. Sexual chemistry. But our society has placed a taboo on giving each a go before you’ve matched on all the levels that don’t seem to actually effect whether or not your going to be compatible.

All the successful couples I know of began fucking and then got to know each other. There’s nothing wrong with that but this thick-headed, stubborn society will insist on using promiscuity as a derogatory remark when directed towards the female sex!

Fucking society

The woes of a philosophy nerd

The problem with having philosophy as an obsession is that you eventually lose the ability to genuinely  converse with at least 90% of the population.

 

See most people speak in anecdotes most of the time.

 

“Today I did x at y and you wouldn’t believe who i met whilst doing x at y? Yeah I meet Z who said a….. etc.”

 

It seems that all their conversation consists of is a rehash of the days events and I find this all incredibly dull. Now don’t think for a second that I think this is objectively dull, or that I think this kind of conversation should  be prohibited (I would like to prohibit it :P). All I mean is that I feel awkward talking to these people because I see anecdotes as a spring-board to more philosophic discussion.

 

I naturally – without intention – start performing a philosophic analysis of the mundane anecdote. Obviously all I ever get in return are – if I’m lucky – blank stares and – if I’m not so lucky – a “You’re crazy”. Which is of course appropriate because in conversation we are playing a game the rules of which I can’t help but break. And being crazy is defined by not following those unspoken rules.