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celticcracker
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Posts: 29
Joined: Sun Jan 04, 2015 10:05 pm
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- February 2015
The Unidentified Problem
   Tue Feb 24, 2015 2:14 am
Underperforming a Good Performance
   Mon Feb 16, 2015 12:04 am
Some Kind of Monster
   Sat Feb 14, 2015 7:07 pm
Blank
   Fri Feb 13, 2015 11:07 pm

+ January 2015
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The Unidentified Problem

Permanent Linkby celticcracker on Tue Feb 24, 2015 2:14 am

I have come to this gradual, final and absolute realisation that most people in my life are complete and utter f*cking a**holes at their deepest core. If my own mind weren't such a hellish place I could probably thrive in my own company, recede back into the cerebral landscapes, untainted by the garish colours of people's sickness. It is no wonder my own ego has become obnoxious; it needs to save itself from all the other obnoxious egos that inflict themselves upon me. I don't know why, but I can't deal with it. I do not understand the world. I have this acute hypersensitivity to other people's sh*t. I understand its origin, but I can never understand what to do with it. It sinks into me and eats me alive like the creeping landslide of nihilism that invades your mind on a bad acid trip. It never resolves. The bitterness takes over until the sickness is drowned, but the problem itself never resolves.

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Underperforming a Good Performance

Permanent Linkby celticcracker on Mon Feb 16, 2015 12:04 am

My life is so odd. I’m successful and doing well for myself. I tend to be good at what I do – I’m a perfectionist, I’m ambitious, I’m conscientious. I’m also very creative, a free thinker and good with intellectual material. However, I never have been as good as I should be. The perfectionism keeps me walking on water instead of drowning in it, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that, all things considered, I should be flying. I should be because not doing so is disrespectful to those who have shared their resources with me and would also be a complete contradiction to what I was in some way born to do – what I am - and would therefore be disrespectful to myself. It violates a principle.

There was this trend of always being beside exceptional while I was growing up, like I was above average at certain things, but not quite there to have my occasional brilliance fully reflected. I got scholarships, I won national titles, I was pretty good at my thing, but never felt the rewards and eventually I became less and less good, partly because of the drinking and partly because I couldn't cope with the deteriorating meaning of life. For instance, I finished school with quite a few points in excess of what I needed, but did not get those tiny few more in order to be awarded with a scholarship for the Arts and Humanities, which would finally have affirmed my excellence. I average between upper second-class honours and lower first-class honours in my college essays, but it’s never quite enough to finally prove that I am great. A few times a year I strike genius, but the marks never add up… My mind is just not present.

I should not complain about this. My life is a luxury. I’m very lucky to have the strengths and opportunities I have, but I’m sorry, I feel f**king sorry for myself, okay?! I try to focus, but my sense of purpose seems to slip from my fingers whenever I have it figured out. I have so many options to choose from. What should I do with my life? Be an academic, write books? Work for a company, earn a tone of money? Human rights? Arts and crafts? Take a year out? Travel? Teach English? I’m overwhelmed by all these options! I’m actually complaining about something many people would kill to have. I’m ungrateful and I know I shouldn’t bad-mouth myself for being so (feelings are valid!), but I will. I’m an ungrateful f*ck. I do not deserve what I have and I most definitely do not deserve to be better than I am. I’m violating my own standards now. Aren’t I lovely?! Dammit, how do I get out of this f**king loop?!

I dream of escape… I wish I could escape the grotesque absurdity that is my wholly purposeful yet completely purposeless life. I already know that if ever I am affirmed to be the great visionary that I am, I will have proof that I will only ever be its reflection and then I will cease to be altogether. It is so odd how the most logical thing to do is a logical contradiction. This double-bind of inapplicability perturbs me to insanity.

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Some Kind of Monster

Permanent Linkby celticcracker on Sat Feb 14, 2015 7:07 pm

I keep pissing on people. It's become this routine of smiling and smiling until someone rubs me up the wrong way and I just tear them to pieces, online and off. It's like the more people I can tear limb from limb the better I sleep at night. I've pushed most of my friends out and I just manipulate people until I expose them to their own insecurities... all the time. The more I do it the more powerful I feel, but I've become this obnoxious person I don't want anything to do with. I think it's justified, though and I can't stop it. I've been wronged so f**cking much in my life and to survive I've created my own standards that people should live up to. I survived it - why shouldn't other people's honour and strength be tested? I've come to hate humanity. More than anything, I hate the games people play and that's exactly what I'm doing myself. I don't understand where all this hate is coming from. Maybe I'm just surrounded by a**holes and I've had it up to here with being talked down to - I don't know, but I do know that I was never this kind of person before. In fact, I was always quite the opposite - the shy nice girl who wouldn't bad mouth a twig. Quite spontaneously I've undergone a complete personality change and I'm this bad bitch who hits people. I have rage blackouts, I have this monster inside of me that's rattling at the cage and when I don't wrong someone who wronged me back I can't get out of bed the next morning because all the brooding had put me into a suicidal swamp. I could swear the drink is calling me back.

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Blank

Permanent Linkby celticcracker on Fri Feb 13, 2015 11:07 pm

I feel very depressed today. The dichotomy between my happy, lovely life and the hopelessly depressed me just never ceases to strike me as utterly absurd. As soon as I woke up this morning that ghastly feeling took hold of me and swallowed me whole. It took me a half an hour to move my leg and two hours to get out of bed. When I was finally dressed, I pulled open the blind and that horrible, pale overcast day bored itself into my eyeballs, so I dropped the blind again and returned to that place under the covers. I can feel it weighing inside my shoulders and when I breathe in the blackness in my heart scrambles to suffocate me. The ceiling is so blank. The nothingness throbs inside my mind. There's just infinite nothingness.

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Introduction: The Pursuit of Happiness and the Meaning of Life

Permanent Linkby celticcracker on Tue Jan 06, 2015 12:09 pm

Rightio, guys! Welcome to my world! It's great in here, albeit the landscapes may appear a little cerebral and neurotic sometimes. I lead the fine young life of an Irish student. Yes, student life is... well, chaotic. Effective organisation is always precluded by the necessities of student life (i.e. sleeping erratic hours, inconsistently meeting inconsistent deadlines, and an all-round simultaneous lack of planning and spontaneity). I am doing what I love (that's binge-reading on metaphysics and critical theory and writing highfalutin essays on it all), and even if it doesn't make me happy, that's okay, because I'm doing the right thing with my life right now. Clarity helps.

Happiness (whatever it is) is a thoroughly overused term these days. Why on earth should I be happy just because I have everything and my life is pretty darn good?! 'Erm... perhaps because you have everything and your life is pretty darn good...?' This is called circular reasoning, a logical fallacy. In fact, the entire pursuit of happiness in itself is both illogical and pointless. For a fact, nothing makes me happy. Ought I be stricken now by an avalanche of guilt? Not really. It's okay to feel whatever you feel and it is absolutely ridiculous to feel what someone else (or society, in fact) tells you to feel, because that's even more absurd that not feeling good, when life's good. In fact, the pursuit of happiness makes people depressed, because it's cheating logic and breaking down the faculties we rely on to make clear distinctions between things!

I like my life. I don't like my depression. I live life with depression. I do not live a depressed life. When I am really depressed I am not living my life, but this has nothing to do with my life and everything to do with my depression. It is important when I am very depressed to never wish my depression to end, because this would mean ending my life. And I like my life. It is much more likable than my depression. It only makes sense to say, then, that I like my life more than I can ever dislike my depression, because depression requires life in order to exist and wishing my life to end because it will end my depression is completely absurd, because it denies the origin of depression, which is not life, but absurdity. Yes, depression is absurd, but life is not and in order to affirm what is true and meaningful (i.e. the fact that depression is absurd) we must affirm life.

Of course, it may appear to be problematic when philosophers say that life is absurd and melancholia is a natural reaction to the absurdity of life. This may be true (and if it is it becomes difficult to distinguish depression from life), but even these philosophers find a way of affirming life, even if only in spite. For Camus, absurdity must be affirmed because our lucidity is the basis of all that we have. According to him, we must continue to push the boulder up the hill knowing it will fall back down, because acknowledging the pointlessness of this task liberates us to accept it. For Kierkegaard, it is defiance: rejection of help or escape which gives us strength to be our own and endure. For Nietzsche, life, suffering and all the tragedy in the world must be relished in order to rise above the adversity of slavery and become masters of ourselves through strength and creativity.

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