EPTIf you haven’t watched the series I highly recommend you do before reading this blog at all. Matthew McConaughey is brilliant at performing the fantastic script.
The TV-series is good, but this isn’t why I am writing this blog. I have a few hours of peace and quiet in the basement looking after a bunch of students taking an exam. Being tech help sometimes gets you a boring job sitting around waiting for something to happen. But getting paid to sit around isn’t that bad when you are armed with the internet and the mighty intellect of a mammal.
What I wanted to talk about is the feelings that I have since going into my 20’s. The sense of everything that we decide to is pointless. Nihilism if you will. I am not even sure if that is the correct term for it.
We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self. This accretion of sensory experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody when, in fact, everybody's nobody.
So for all our fantastic achievements as a race we aren’t really individuals. We labour and work hard and have the same conversations over and over again. I repeat the same goddamn annoying pleasantries again and again. And the only reason that people act to me in customer service is that’s what society demands of us. Civil conduct if you want something from someone. And then again if someone acts like a total dick I still have to serve them a smile and pleasant conversation cause I am in CUSTOMER SERVICE. Fuck.
Everything we’ve ever done or will do
we’re gonna do over and over and over again…
we’re gonna do over and over and over again…
Finding meaning in work
I flunked my bachelor of law cause I couldn’t write it. Whether that was incompetence or just general apathy for the actual subject that I had elected to take a bachelor in I’m still usure. Nonetheless I am taking an education on IT infrastructure in where it does not feel like my limited set of shitty skills are completely wasted. I get up, I help people who are less knowledgeable about IT and try and make their life as smooth as possible. There’s plenty of feel-good moments. But when I go home I sit down exhausted and tired with the feeling that there ought to be more to life than working 8 hours a day then coming home to eating a subpar meal alone then escaping into video games and various tv-series. I have stopped watching news cause I for the most part feel it’s a complete waste of time. But then again so is video games. Even that little bit of passion I had for playing a good goddamn game is slowly withering. I don’t take the same amount of joy in sitting down and kicking some ass in Starcraft.
Life
I have lived in 4 different apartments the last 6 years. One alone, one with brother who ended up basically kicking me out cause he suddenly got a new gf with a child, the second I ended up moving cause my finances were too thin and I was dropping out of Law and the last one where I am. In a shared apartment with 3 other guys. Thin walls, annoying neighbours who can’t for the life of them think for two seconds that 11 pm means don’t fucking wash your noisy dishes cause I got work in the morning at 7.
So I am moving again. To another place that will have equally empty walls. Every place so far I have lived in I’ve barely bothered decorating. Do guys usually decorate their apartment? Or is that more of a girl thing.
Empty Walls (by empty walls serj tankian lol)
When I watched the scene of Rust’s apartment I drew an immediate comparison to my own life. Not that I am some sort of super detective with deep postmodern thought about the meaning of life. But rather that home could just as well be mine. That it was an empty place devoid of feeling or of a warm home.
Nothing on the wall
![[image loading]](http://www.rickey.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/True-Detective-Rust-Cohle-is-suspended-1024x573.png)
I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself - we are creatures that should not exist by natural law... We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, that accretion of sensory experience and feelings, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everbody's nobody... I think the honorable thing for our species to do is to deny our programming. Stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction - one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.
I wish life wasn’t so fucking depressing at times. I don’t know where I wanted to go with this but I think this blog is done now. So read it and weep if you will. This conversations been had already anyway.
