cleaning out the files

I was looking through some old files, papers and documents that I've written over the time, and I ran into a short paper written some time ago, titled The I'm tired and full of shit paper. Though it's random, a little bit obtuse, and it tries to over-intellectualize something that is rather simple and not so much worth writing about, I found it a bit interesting. Here's what a late night and what I'm guessing large amounts of alcohol does to my writing. Enjoy.


I am convinced that Life As We Know It is not that at all. We are somehow all confused, thinking that life is something we can grasp. We cannot do such a thing with our feeble minds. It is my belief that sooner or later we start to design in our minds some sort of reality that is safe, secure and reliable to help fend off the inclination (which is in all probability true) that we lack the ability to control the world, so we try to create a formula that predicts following events. The veracity of these such inclinations can not be authenticated despite our tests and trials that we force ourselves to try. The nature of this concern, and the resulting discomfort is that there is no controlling the madness that is nature, and there is no predicting it, even though the madness takes on the form of order over time.
As children we think that perhaps, with enough will and fortune, we can influence the way things happen. At the very least we hope we can predict the outcome. We will say such phrases as ‘Agracadabra’, motioning our fingers, hoping that the glass of juice will levitate. It is then that we realize gravity, at that particular moment, is probably going to win. So then our thoughts moves on to the next desirable outcome; mom will come and bring it to me. So we hope that the cutest expression that we can conjure will make her bring it to our pleading hands. Nothing. So we call out, we beg, we cry. Nothing. At this point the events around us are not going as planned. So we throw a fit and complain some more, which does not present us the glass of juice, but an angry parent who sends us off to our room. This is by no means where we wanted to be, and it was not predictable in our minds.

However, sooner we begin to think that we can in fact predict all of this by understanding the past results and comparing them with what we think is the standard of the world around us, a standard of nature. So we begin to believe that events can and do recur over a long period of time. This creates an attitude of complacency and a constant feeling of being jaded. Reality becomes nothing but a series of repeated events, until something happens that is out of the ordinary. The truth is we encounter variations in our daily lives that we chose to ignore, because we comfortably place them in memory bins of common experiences. We distort what is really happening from what our past makes us believe is happening.