Having Been Human
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Fri Aug 3 18:28:06 2012
Creature of the Rain

There is a sadness that's born of uncertainty, or more of complexity; it's not the Kierkegaardian uncertainty so much as a commitment to pull down the walls that keep us sane and happy and allow for more tenative, thorny, nuanced ideas to be planted in their place. And yet, from that stems unhappiness. I wonder if company would alleviate that much, or if it's inherent in the position. The happiest people that I've known were not carrying gigantic worldviews on their backs. There are plenty of smart people who don't keep most of their mental life hot and on an anvil waiting for a new curve. I've been drawn to both kinds of people, but I feel committed to a path that I know will make it hard for me to be content/happy or find commonality with other people for the rest of my life. That's a barren and hard enough path that it often makes me wonder if life is worth it; I know I could not pull myself off the path, but my existence has been a provisional choice for many years. Not mandatory, just something I keep on doing while it makes sense. Are my expectations reasonable? Are my needs meetable given my commitments?

It seems that it would be so easy to retreat into things that would feel to me like bad habits; pretending my desires for humanity are inevitable, speaking seriously in ways that flatter my preconceptions, and joining others in those communities of mutual appreciation. But that would mean giving up on this independence and rigour and fairness, and I am not sure I could even stomach the inner dissent that that surely would stir. I keep seeing others step over their equivalent of things that for me are barriers; they paint liberalism as inevitable and natural, or they lose conversational discipline, or they demonise. So easy and wrong, but so natural.

It seems that the grand shape of life is not that satisfying, and the more clear and understandable it is, the more my builtin desires to take part in that love and family thing feels shallow. I would hope that if the opportunity for what I'm looking for showed up that the instinct for it would provide the joy and other rewards that seem increasingly shallow and distant from what feels possible now, but as usual the more I can map it out the less necessary it seems to go there. The closer imagination comes to being a holodeck, the less reason there is to pass the gates in one's head towards IRL.

By not having enough of a social side to my life, I'm losing touch with what my social side would be like if engaged; I'm no longer sure what kinds of interactions will actually make me happy, or how quickly I'll be worn out by conversations. It's like a broader kind of the forgetting how I am in a relationship; as the memories of dysfunctional and half-relationships fade and I (maybe?) continue to change, I lose the ability to predict what I want out of one; the question becomes airy.

Last night I saw the subways in a behind-the-scenes way; was returning home around 02:30, and saw them being cleaned by people with hoses. Leads to more feelings of alienation; impression that those things are not meant to be seen by the actors on the stage of life, but I see them because I'm more here to observe humanity than take part in it.