this will probably just turn into a verbal diarrhea repository for my ongoing dissatisfactions with life

I’ve attempted to mediate monotony and desire starting during childhood. I hated the perennial suburban landscape of white walls and popcorn ceilings. I felt increasingly insular, my hobbies irrelevant. I desperately wanted to grasp the bigger picture, my life trajectory. That materialized in the form of grades, and I wasn’t doing to well. Another self-perpetuating cycle, understanding the futility of your situation, and putting in less work as a consequence.

With that path gone, I focused on the sort-term. From the start I knew it was a slippery path down unimpeded hedonism. The male orgasm would be an apt parallel with what I feared. Transient, surface-deep, I trusted it less than Harbor Freight branded food.

And so I attempted to find a medium. Short-term gratification with long-term progress. I found limited successes here, some more than others. But work thoroughly sodomized this delicate arrangement, sapping away all my time. It sometimes becomes latent and I carry on my day-to-day. But the absence of ambiguity doesn’t equal happiness in my life. In fact, I looked to that as another source of distress. I took pride in my neuroticism. No matter how futile and maladaptive the outlooks Introspection bred became, I took pride

It’s stuck in a closed loop of subjectivity, wholly isolated from academia or even mainstream introspection. Normal people are busy, they have things to do. It doesn’t take much to gratify them, nor do they look to their surrounds with a sense of perpetual xenophobia.

And I think that’s a fundamental crux to my identify. I’m constantly devaluing my issues like most people do, but that doesn’t delegitimize its existence. That’s why I have to elucidate everything. To catch myself on autopilot and thoroughly interrogate my “of course I would do that” side. That’s why I think other people, their fascinations, and their creations are so compelling to me. I view my life perspective in a very insular perpetual mindset. Other people live their lives with completely different sets of rules. For me, that also becomes a source of half-hearted envy.

from th bonjounal:

I've been trying and failing to contexualize my lack of introspection ever since getting here. There's two ways I can frame the entire thing: my neuroticism was born out of deficiencies in suburbia and deemed irrelevent now, or I've unconsciously learned out to ignore it. Neither looks particularly flattering to me. I've accepted that my obsession with progress and hobbies was a byproduct of time constraints born through working and the fatalism of knowing my life wasn't going anywhere. Might as well cop some cheap short-term gratification by buying shit, right? Issue is that framework for approaching my day-to-day has fallen apart since getting here. As a result, I'm unable to analyze my personal life with any sort of earnestness. Escapism to ambiguity.

But there's one terrifying prospect that I'd rather not visualize: I might be content with my current life. It would make sense if my neuroticism was born out of a generalized anxiety about my life trajectory. I constantly felt I was at a crossroads with options slipping away every day. Now, I don't stress about hobbies because clothing and film cameras satiates me. I don't think about my career because I have shit lined up for at least the next year.

But that also means this is the emotional apogee of my life. In my mind satiation shouldn't feel both overwhelming and deficient like this. It also means the range of issues I faced in suburbia are just latent, not buried and dealt with. Directly tied with my life circumstances, things can get just as bad as before without my experiences here being a meaningful lesson. Again it simply feels like monotony was replaced with a more involved monotony. And above all, there's no academic outlet to look for direction. There's no objectivity in my perceptions of life progress. Self-help books written by dusty spiritual men are less productive than boofing veterinary tranquilizers.

Neuroticism and Introspection