The internet is always around to contest the claim that you’re clever
I’m still reading about the Mariana Islands; this seems too good of a story to be true. I wonder why more people don’t live in beautiful, tropical locations. I guess I’ve always attributed that to a lack of adventuresomeness in the modern human; I’ve never once considered it could suck there.
I’ve spent hours over the past few days procrastinating. Earlier I became totally engrossed in a story about a Santa Fe cop who may or may not have screwed Elizabeth Enriquez (exactly) on the hood of a car, in uniform, while a chihuahua caught the whole thing on camera. Or something.
I’d be embarrassed to rattle off all the things I procrastinated with, I even spent a good 30 minutes looking at advertisements for a British clinic that would help me with my internet addiction. If I were British and local to them. And had an internet addiction. This feels different, foreign from the normal procrastination that comes with the territory of “internet user.” This alien phenomenon has not only eroded my impulse control, but is threatening my entire sense of agency. As of tonight, I don’t even experience fantasies of self-improvement as credible anymore; this is particularly frightening.
Full disclosure: not all of my procrastinetworking was lame, I also discovered some rad valentines from the early 90’s (I had totally forgotten how they specifically made somewhat neutral messages for some so that you could choose who got the mushier ones!) and got hip to the MIA apologyexpected (or in this case, apology-erroneously-reported) via the sharp-minded Sasha Frere-Jones, who is a hero of mine for reasons I’ll explain later. You know, after I sleep.
Yeah, this is a problem. I’m having to scroll up and down and add different sentences to these paragraphs to make them make sense, because my mind has no space left on the counter to put any of the thoughts it has waiting for another thought to be put on that counter, with the kitchen appliances–it’s a metaphor, the appliances are thoughts but I’m so tired that there isn’t space left on the counter (because I’m really tired) for a new thought to go while I consider an old one. Also, every time I see the autosaved notice I’m worried I’m writing a text message and running out of characters. My new phone doesn’t semi-helpfully split a big message into multiple ones, instead you just hit a brick wall. I never understood why I can stream HD video on this stupid battery-draining 4G multimedia communications device while simultaneously fetching a day’s worth of e-mail, but 160 characters is still the limit for sending a text to someone.
But anyway, back to sleep, and keeping in mind that all of the paragraphs below this one were written 15 minutes ago, I think I may be able to sleep like right now. I’m going to wake up really wishing that I washed my face and brushed my teeth and ate more food, but I’m worried if I go do any of those things that I won’t have access to this sleepiness anymore. Something about a kitchen counter or something. Fuck, I might not even turn off the light.
I know there’s a lot I could blame, but this is only confirming my suspicion that philosophy is hazardous to one’s mental health. Also, my physical health… it’s almost 4 in the morning and I’ve been eating less and less. I’m supposed to go see Lukas tonight again, and I probably will. Right now I’m fantasizing about ways to steal sleep tomorrow between work and school and class, but I’m not even trying to sleep right now.
You know about the wikipedia game, right? I think it came from the alt text of a decent xkcd strip, but the comment section on that first link suggests I’m wrong. Anyway, I got really excited because while researching having problems with impulse control,I noticed that the Impulse article is a winner. Until I remembered that I was wrong twice, both in considering an infinite loop (Impulse control = delayed gratification, a psychiatric equivocation that I’d hesitate to make) a winner & also in choosing the second link instead of the first. Intellectualism of course leads to philosophy, via panpsychicism, which clearly looks like a typo.
TL;DR: I’m tireder than I am clever.