The world is all that is the case
October 13th, 2024
"I" think too much regarding "things" that will never be known. If I am "valuable" or "meaningful" or if the things I action are "the best use of my time."
"I" "judge" myself over the way I "spend" my time.
The fact is, no matter how many circles I go here, lampooning or complaining or suffering, I will never have a clear framework for "value."
As Wittgenstein puts it, "sense" is not something of this world.
The abstraction, what I really mean is that which must be passed over in silence. The symbols that point to things that don't exist in this world.
And so, I'm going to resolve to live a "wonderful life": I'm going to "live happily." Because, where one cannot speak, one must pass over in silence.
I smell bad
I spent this weekend binging Subarashi Hibi, (Wonderful Everday,) and I've been essentially locked in my room for 48 hours. Usually, this could be considered a prison sentence or solitary confinement, but this is frankly the happiest I've been. I do smell bad though, so much that I can smell how bad I smell.
Before I go to work tomorrow, I need to basically clean up this room and air it out. I'm going to open the window, wash my clothes and sheets, and get the mildewy smell out of here.
Plus, I've picked my nose and left it on the desk for so long. It's kind of gross. I think I'm also going to run a couple miles in the blazing heat, to get the grossness out of my body. Sweat out the toxins? Not sure. But I think it'll make me smell better, likely. Getting out of my room and getting some sunlight of course.
I need to take my laundry downstairs to wash since my roommate is using the one in the apartment. Oh dear. Maybe I'll put it in a box and wash it all together, so I can save on time.
Also, I need a haircut. Badly. Ahahaha. My hair looks unkempt. I also could use an appointment to do my eyebrows since they're growing a bit wild again.
Hmm. Not sure what to do from here. I have a lot on my chest to do. No wonder why I want to play Subarashi Hibi for 48 hours straight...
Well, opening the window is the first step. Let's get started in living again.
Gym and Mexican food and Laundry
I put my clothes in the laundry. Opened the window and blasted my air purifier. My room seems to be clearing of the odor and musk of a VN-addicted NEET.
I went to the gym and did legs. Less weight, much less weight than I usually do (95lbs squat, I'm strong!) and felt my legs shake and feel sore before exiting. I swung by the mall to get my eyebrows threaded, but the line was so long so I just went to eat instead.
I went to eat at this Mexican place. It was awful. The sauce on my enchiladas clearly came from a can, and the tortilla the steak was wrapped with clearly was processed and came from the store. It felt like I was eating microwave enchiladas. I wanted to throw up, because of all the bad chemicals that were likely in the sauce. I still paid my money for it, so I ate it anyway.
My stomach is more sensitive now that I started to eat healthier. Before, I probably wouldn't have even batted an eye. But I'm trying to take care of my body, against all the preservatives, emulsifiers, artificial sweeteners, and added sugars they're putting in our food.
Ugh. My stomach didn't like that. I went home to start the next batch of laundry. I was going to go to the bookstore and grab whatever LN looked good, but I forgot on the drive back. I started thinking about something else completely. I was completely spaced out an lurching back into the abstractions again.
My attention span has been shot. I need to be more careful about how I use my attention, especially since YouTube shorts and Instagram reels have basically fucked and castrated my brain.
My mom texted us. She said my dad's eye is under immense pressure and pain. She says that she took him to the hospital and he's getting morphine injected into him. He recently had another eye surgery, and it's not looking good.
I don't know why this is happening to him. Why?
Memories
You know, I used to think that "the map is not the territory" in that "the language (abstractions) is not the reality (concrete)." I used to believe that wholeheartedly, until I read Wittgenstein.
He's convinced me that there may very well be no proof of reality but of our language---that is, the territory can only exist by virtue the map exists. In other words, the world is the language we use to describe "it," that is, what is the case and self-evident.
Are the abstractions all we have? If so, and if any proposition we make to it is true, I think that's what they meant in Subahibi, that if you're going to choose any proposition that can be just as right as any other---any interpretation of the states of affairs in life---you should... you should... you should...
"Live happily."
Wittgenstein said his final words, of all the things he encountered in his life, "Tell them I've lived a wonderful life."
Depression
I'm starting to think words like "what's the point" and "I don't really feel motivated to play games or do anything." I know that the words aren't helping me here, and that I shouldn't think them. But frankly, my stomach feels that sort of way. I just feel queasy, and that I feel heavy in my shoulder and brows.
I feel a heaviness in my eyes and shoulders. That I should just lay down and get on with my life.
Maybe I need a nap. I don't know.
Maybe I'm depressed from not talking to anyone? I'm not sure. But I'd be sadder yet if I started reaching out to other people. It's hard.
It's hard to find people who have good worlds to share.
Run
I went running on a nearby trail. Roughly nine minute drive out. I can see the mountains there, and the clouds that just hug the tops of it, rolling gently like a pastry or some cheesy simile like that.
It's gorgeous. I run and run and run on the trail. Along the highway, along the lake, along the mountains. I run and run. But I look again, and somehow I can't feel a thing. I can't feel that feeling that it's gorgeous or whatever. I feel exhausted, and I feel tired.
I see many old Chinese couples with children. I see wives pushing strollers of babies. I think and think. I think of my future. I look at myself, all alone, and, and I think.
An old black man with beady eyes and a heavy gait looks at me. I look at him. He's alone too. I travel several miles and turn back, and when I do, I find that he's talking to a little black girl. It must be his granddaughter. I realize that normal human beings keep the bonds they build over their lifetime, and they keep it and keep it steady.
People have relationships. People who don't have relationships, are they people?
A thought like that pops in my head now, I ignore it, because it's just a proposition that's just as true or not true as any other. But the thought and feeling still remains in my head.
I come home and start another load of laundry. I call my parents. My dad went to the emergency room today because his recent surgery started to breakout in an intense pain. Pain so intense he's on morphine. I don't think humans are supposed to feel that sort of pain and still live. But my dad is okay now. I'm a bit startled and a bit sad that my father is going through this amount of suffering. What did he do? His eye is bruised, and he's been injected with morphine and it still hurts. I don't know what to do. My parents say I look depressed.
I go out for dinner. I walk the streets at night. I'm wearing a black jacket and jeans as usual. I walk through the night, my face reflected by the few moody streetlights along the roads. I don't feel anything at all. I look at the darkness out of ahead of me, and I look at the people walking the streets.
Lines and lines and lines of people. I see couples, friends, and families. I see them all walking down the street, some with their arms linked. Some laughing, others talking loudly. I see them look one another in the eye and crack jokes or ask about their lives. I eavesdrop unintentionally, I try not to get involved with other people but the noise is just too loud.
I was walking past a health clinic. I looked up: it's a wellness center. Inside there's gym equipment to stay healthy. I think to myself that's a good idea. In front, there's a young chinese guy smoking tobacco on the bench. He looks like he doesn't really care. I could really use a smoke too.
I walk past a ramen shop. There's a lot of people crowding around. I want to eat here too, but I don't want to wait. I'm hungry, and besides, I don't crave ramen that badly. There's a few cosplayers in front, there was an anime convention just nearby. I considered going, but then I realized I can't even make friends at work---how would I make friends at a convention by myself? Isn't that just too difficult for me?
Then I notice. Usually I just dissociate and try to avoid people's gaze. But there's a girl. She's staring right at my face. Usually when I notice, they'll turn and look away, but she just kept staring. So I looked her in the eyes. And I found something surprising. I don't know what she was feeling in those few moments, but she locked eye contact with me. Personally, I felt uncomfortable. I hate eye contact. It's intimate. It's gross. It makes me feel like they're looking into my lost, lost soul. It makes me feel like I've lost everything and they can see how pathetic I am.
She looked away, or she looked down. I'm not sure. But I just kept walking. A thought popped up in my head to ask if she's with someone, and if she wants to eat with me. Some sort of arrogance comes to mind that I might be handsome or catch her fancy like that, but I decide against it. I'm feeling very depressed anyway.
In hindsight, looking back at it now, what I had almost done reminds me of Dazai's novel, Schoolgirl. I don't particularly remember the plot of the book that well, but I remember a scene where a girl is thinking in her head how careful she has to be when she smiles at men. If she smiled at the wrong man, he could muster the courage to ask her out, and then all of a sudden she'd fall in love, she'd have been trapped in marriage, and she'd have kids with that man.
In other words, such a small little gesture could change the fate of the world in just moments. It's funny how it works right?
I didn't want my world to change. I felt sad and depressed today. I didn't want to bring some girl close to me, love-bomb her or whatnot, and then end up rejecting her out of my own self-loathing. I think I'd actually go through with it if I hurt someone that badly.
So I kept walking.
I went to check on my favorite buckwheat noodle shop. Tons of people inside. Another girl looked at my face. On the way to the store many people looked at my face. I wondered if I were handsome today or something. In hindsight, it's probably because I look terribly sad and depressed.
I'm not good at hiding how I feel to other people. I'm good at hiding how I feel to myself, so I wouldn't know what sort of face I'm making at any given moment.
It's times like this I think I might have DID or something, because of how crazy the mood switch is. Just the other day I was happy, and now my world is so gloomy and sad. I think it's the allergies.
The waitlist was long and long and long. It's a Sunday night, so I stepped away from the noodle shop and went to go eat from this Tibetan shop. They call themselves Indo-Chinese food, I guess, to cater to all the Indian and Chinese people here in Silicon Valley. Go figure.
On the way there, a little girl was playing on a bicycle statue. Her father was there, watching her, singing to her, humming to her, encouraging her on and with a world of happiness glittering in his eyes. I could see it---again, another eternity locked in that very moment. Happiness for happiness.
So I kept walking. I got seated at the Tibetan restaurant and found myself at a four-seater table alone.
I just felt sad. I eavesdropped on the conversation in front of me. Some old couple, a fat lady and a big man. They looked sort of---discontent and unhappy. But the man kept looking back, not sure if he was looking back at me or the table behind me. But it's not like I was doing anything but spacing out anyway.
The table behind me were two friends. Probably director-level leaders of some sort just meeting up for old times sake. Talking about the tech market, and when to plan their next move. Some sort of meta-commentary on job hopping here.
I ate my chicken curry. You know, most days I can't remember what I eat at restaurants, yet I still go. I don't know why. I don't know why I eat out alone, it's a very strange hobby of mine. I hate eating in front of other people, because I'm afraid they'll judge me for my sloppiness or whatever. My parents would judge me of the way I ate a lot. It's stressful. I don't like eating with other people because of it. If I complained about it, a fight would ensue and I'd be on my way to getting beat or verbally berated or lectured to hell. I don't like eating with other people at all.
So I eat out alone. I like the unique food. It's good. I like it. I like eating good food. It's one of my guilty pleasures in life.
But I don't remember the food. I don't really have a continuity of memory like other people, especially when I'm in a DPDR state.
I want to be free. I want to be free of my own suffering.
I hear a boy yell out, "Hey! What are you doing here!" as if he were some forty-year old man seeing an old face. I figure, if a boy can be that extroverted and make someone feel that special by remembering them, that boy will go very, very, very far in life. Relationships are the only thing that matter anyway, and boy, that boy had the voice to make you feel remembered.
I feel lonely today though, for some reason. I don't feel lonely when I'm locked up in my room playing video games. Strange, isn't it?
I finish my curry and pay for my bill. I don't even look at the cost, and I scan my card. Eighteen percent tip because what the hell, I might make the waiter's day. I looked up around his face, and he seemed to not really care. Then I get up and leave.
I'm walking down the street again. It's dark. Less people are looking at my face. So I'm not handsome, haha. It's probably that I was hungry and feeling miserable that my emotions caught the attention of some homely, nice, and caring women.
If only I cared for myself as they cared for a random stranger. Isn't that funny?
When I approached my apartment, I asked myself: why am I walking so fast? Am I in a hurry to get home? Why not take a night walk for a moment? So I slowed my pace for a moment and looked at the moon and night. It shone so brightly today. It was strange. A car's headlights brought me back to earth, away from my romanticized world, and I remembered I needed to take my sheets out of the washer and dry them before heading to bed tonight. I hurried home.
The couples laughing. The families laughing. Children squealing with joy. I saw a Chinese girl, only three years of age, having fun playing on the window-sill while her mother follows her along the window-sill. The mother was hopping and making funny noises, and the baby just laughed and laughed and laughed. I could feel an eternity in that moment. I could feel a permanent memory being seared in both of them in that moment. Eternity, forever and ever and ever in that very moment. A life to remember and remember and remember.
I walk past them. Women my age in groups, men my age in groups, confident men and caring women. Couples and couples line the street. Happiness lines the street. And I walk past them.
I'm such an emo edgelord. That's all I can think of myself now. I haven't changed since three years ago. I haven't changed since high school. I'm still that emo virgin edgelord that can't get over his angst and self-hatred. I still haven't changed in all these years. I keep repeating the same mistakes and the same emotions over and over like a truly broken record.
I walk past them. I badge into my apartment and go up the elevator. I sit on the toilet and watch the League of Legends Worlds tournament highlights. Then I hear my roommate shuffling around, and I know my time is up. I hurry out the restroom as not to hog it. I pull my sheets out of the washer and dry it.
Now I sit here at my computer, tapping away. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.
What is the future that is beholden for me? I don't know. Mom said I will have bad luck until New Years, and I believe it for a little while. It's rough. I'm working a lot and a lot and a lot. And I play a lot of video games to compensate. I'm escaping.
I can't escape. I can't escape from myself. I'm... I'm tired.
It's 10PM almost. Okay, 9:20PM. It's not quite 10PM. But how's my life going? Well. My dad's on morphine, I just moved out of my parent's house at 24 and having adjustment issues. I'm having PTSD dissociation episodes from childhood sexual and physical abuse trauma. I moved across the country, and I'm alone most days. Work is piling on more and more and more. At least I'm paid well? But what do I have going for my life? What's the point of living?
I talk more to myself than I do to real people. I don't have anyone I genuinely can explain myself to. I open up to friends and I'm met with the ol' "I have it worse" rhetoric. I've decided not to open up to them.
I look at my window. It's dark. The city is still bright with lights, like cicadas in the summer they chirp and buzz and chirp. Did you know, light pollution has gotten so bad, there are only a few places left on earth you can see the milky way? It used to be you could see the stars and milky way from any place on earth, and now in the modern age, the glare from our city lights blot out the stars. The dreams and wonder we used to have for our bare existences... it's being blotted out. Our perspective on how small our lives are is out like a light.
I loved her a lot. I still think about her. I know she doesn't think about me or remember me. I was just another one of her boys. But I still miss her. Isn't that wonderful?
"Live happily!"