The Hikokkomori of the Opera

The first day of freedom that I have earned by successfully completing a semester of school is spent by submerging myself in the abjectly alleviating isolation which has never failed to mend my bones.

In the small confines of my room I feel most at peace. This self imposed incarceration is anything but when my tea is complemented with everything the Internet has to offer. Books from my Nook, the science articles I read from, meditation, my varied taste in music, and Japanese anime can keep me embroiled for hours. Before I know it the day has slipped from my fingers.

The only worry I have is that my time spent in isolation might leave me regretting that I never truly lived my life. Then again, what does it truly mean to live a life and why should we do so according to some romanticized ideal that is propagated by the unquestioning likes of us? Whether we feel fulfilled scaling mount everest or binging on an anime marathon, all that matters is that it fulfilled the same need.

Our incessant need to validate the small part we play in this indifferently chaotic world never fails to make us regret the road we did not travel.

Listening to Elfen Lied's Lilium is what prompted me to write another one of the chilling reflective pieces that you are all so fond of reading. I know it has been quite some time since I last blogged. I could blame school but that would not be sufficient. I could just as easily have set aside some time to continue writing but it would seem that I value meandering the vast expanse of cyberspace more than being consistent with my blog.

For the sake of my mortal soul I must devote myself to my blog because writing soothes my spirit in ways that my hermetic indulgences cannot. Like a coquettish courtesan who is as dexterous with applying Tiger Balm as she is with applying the rest of her charms. No, the solace I take from writing has a quiet and gentle dignity that cannot be compared to something so vulgar. I will let you know when an apt metaphor comes to me.

It all began with Xenosaga

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone. . ." To think it was Xenosaga Episode I: Der Wille zur Macht, a Japanese video game, which originally exposed me to that quote. It truly does illustrate the finer points of learning scripture. Irrespective of what theological position you may hold, those finer points remain undulled. Even Friedrich Nietzsche had aspirations of becoming a priest throughout his entire early life. 

Come to think of it, it was that game which sparked my love of Nietzsche. It all began after I looked into where the second half of its title came from. I should play it again whenever I have the opportunity. We all need to return to our roots from time to time lest we lose grip of what we are. I just need to find the patience for JRPGs again lol.

This makes me question if there is any genuine need for us to exhume our past. Aside from appeasing the sentimental whimsy that escalates with age. The flow of time continuously erodes our essence. Why should we make the attempt to recapture moments that have long drifted away from us? I guess that is a question that I will have to present to Marcel Proust or even better, a neuroscientist lol. 

I suspect this is where my abysmal memory comes from. A side affect of relegating my waking moments to the crumpled up scrawls of a failed novella.

Here is my favorite scene from Xenosaga.

 

An Eclipse of Hope

Lately my posts have taken a more maudlin direction. I promise to make it up to my readers by writing something more engaging. For the meantime I ask for you all to wait until I can invoke a fit of buffoonery worthy of placing on the printed page.  

Today we were given an opportunity to finish where we left off for an exam for intro to electrical engineering. Even so, I was only able to complete half of it. The nights I poured into it out of preparation went to naught. I left feeling dreadfully hopeless about my future prospects and my overall competence. On the drive home I turned to this song in order to soothe my nerves. It took some of the edge off but I still had to overcome a sort of hollow sensation that comes from having your chest and guts scooped out.

After driving for a short while I realized that this new disappointment which made its debut on the center stage is completely overshadowed by all the others which formed the definitive backdrop of my life. All of the time I lost in my youth to this paralytic sinking feeling of powerlessness and inadequacy came back to me. This recollection did not consume me but rather, it reminded me of a very profound quote from the Doom Eagles:

All of creation suffers, young ones. Only in accepting our own mortality can we make a difference. Only in bearing the burden of our failures can we find the strength to go on. Only in detachment from glory, or honour, or jealousy... from life itself can we hope to spare others from grief. We are Doom Eagles. And we are dead already.
+++ Librarian Secundus Thryn of the Doom Eagles +++

A sense of relief came from being (more than) well prepared for dealing with this attack on my spirit. Like a fencer who was caught briefly unaware, I recovered my footing and gathered myself together.  My thoughts were such “Right now I am truly in my own element. This is my domain. I am home.” Things then took a turn for the better. This despondently invigorating realization served as a confirmation of being alive. You'd be surprised just what sort of things you would welcome just to upset the bland progression of day to day life.

Regardless of how welcoming we are of it, a toxin is still a toxin. So I dealt with it in the same manner I treat another mild toxin that I am fond of. I lied down and let it run its course. I guess you could say I was drunk on self loathing lol. When I awoke I began to briefly review the material that gave me a hard time and then took a break from it to blog to you all. A break which must end soon seeing how much time I devoted to writing about the experience rather than actually fixing it.

This Saturday I was driven to desperation by a similar sort of fit so I searched online for anything to get me out of this rut. A friend of mine who is a modern military enthusiast noticed my fascination with neuroscience and my recent preoccupation with the science of memory. Lately I have been touting working memory as the very backbone of cognition, so he shared a very illuminating article which prompted me to get this book. I recently abandoned a similar personal project so I could devote more time to studies and internet wanderlust. Seeing that article confirmed just how much more attention I must devote to strengthening the very thing that is most vital to my success. I must now abandon Lumosity and stick to more classical methods. It's only fitting for someone who has always been a fan of the classics.

The Allegory of Sisyphus

I returned from physics class feeling disappointed with myself for being unable to follow along. Even when a portion I was struggling with was personally explained to me I tensed up at my inability to grasp it. It should come to no surprise that shortly thereafter I was unable to recall what was necessary for me to proceed with the problems assigned to my group. I had no choice but to defer to the others in my group whose comprehension outstripped mine. The dreadfully sinking suspicion that there is something genuinely wrong with me was further reinforced by a nerve wracking experience with an intro to electrical engineering exam the day before. I could find consolation in that many of my peers struggled with it as well but I don't. Lately, my devoted studies have yielded a disproportionate output. I searched for anything I can use to help pull me out of this "Sisyphic" turmoil. I thought I just merely had to fortify my working memory using various aides like Lumosity. Lo and behold I found this. It would seem that my little Lumosity program really isn't helping. As if my hopes were not already sufficiently dashed.

Despite my knack for ornamenting my thoughts with verbal flourishes and being gifted (or burdened) with existential insight, I lag behind in the only skill that truly matters, logic; and by extension, working memory as well. I just wished I knew where the root of this cognitive disconnect lies so I can effectively work toward uprooting it. I lack the means to treat this with the aid of modern medical/behavioral science. So I am left with no other option but to find a way to work it out myself. I can only hope that I am just being too highly strung and inflating things.

"Well, it's just like it is with the stars, there are bright ones and there are those that are dim." -Hilda, Outlaw Star

I have wasted the most potentially fruitful portion of my life wallowing in self pity and agonizing over my failures. Now, the flow of time has pushed me to a precipice. The only option left is for me to push back and grimly advance. 

A little scribble that I am proud of

A flute that is so dreadfully bracing must come from a man whose breath is emboldened by a soul of such depth that it plumbs the terrifying breadth of the human spectrum. It takes a nerve of such heft to accompany such a powerful composition.

I was in one of my austere moods again. Then again, when aren't I? I just wanted to write a little something that is grave yet offset by my wry sense of humor. As is my wont lol.

Noonaut space monkey

So far it has been a week since I started my daily intake of noopept and alpha gpc. In case you are all unfamiliar with nootropics, they are cognitively enhancing substances. Think of them as a sort of brain supplement. Despite having hopes of developing an acumen which allows me to engage in intellectual banter with the likes of the Ultra-Humanite and Beast, I had no delusions about what my little cocktail can achieve. From what I gathered from neuroscience articles, the physical layout of our minds, neurotransmitters and all, plays a pronounced role in both the cultivation of our intellect as well as its potential. What is more disconcerting is that our own drive and will can be tied closely to genetics. It takes so little, just a slight hormonal imbalance, to reduce a Fields Medal holder to a drooling imbecile. A rather grim outlook to have for our prospects. If it is any consolation, I am an optimist on this issue. I consider our physical makeup to be only half of what is essential in developing our mental prowess. The other is just pure effort and will. Such a sentiment amounts to nothing more than wishful thinking.

Before I started taking this nootropic stack, I was constantly entrenched in a mental fog on account of my self-diagnosed ADD. My mind was constantly in two places at once. It made navigating the course of my day into a distressful, frustrating, and disappointing endeavor (as if it wasn’t already). Even after taking my very first dose I felt an unfamiliar sense of clarity. I have become so accustomed to my frequent meanderings that being separated from them has left me with a type of superstitious dread. That as I become more and more of a rational organism I become less and less of a feeling one. I was correct in attaching the label of “superstitious” to this type of separation anxiety that is reminiscent of the hokey drivel of a Saturday morning cartoon.

For one thing though, my stack does not remove the malaise but, it does blunt it very well. The liquor of disillusionment that I so freely drink from made languishing in my room a necessity, all so that I may soothe my nerves. This has become less of a necessity. I can now attest to noopepts effectiveness as an anxiolytic. Unfortunately my schoolwork has become more of a test of will than before. I am confident that this is just a rough transition that comes from starting a new semester. Now that I have regained the kinetic potential that comes from focus I must dig deep and find the will to sustain momentum.

Sartre and Camus Came to Me in a Séance

This pervasive and deeply rooted nervous dread that seeps into my every waking moment is something that I have learned to live with. I believe that it is simply the human condition, the existential predicament if you will. A sort of nagging ball of doubt that forces us to recognize that our lives are slipping away with every passing moment. We all adjust in our own manner or, quite literally, die trying. The most common panacea is religion but those of us with a constitution not suited for this prescription have to search doggedly for a different remedy. Whether it be vice, asceticism, or throwing ourselves into some sort of “fruitless endeavor.” A term which I use loosely given the utterly elusive nature of value judgments. The list goes on and on but in the end all of these remedies amount to nothing more than a placebo. For no matter what, we are all burdened with having to tolerate ourselves.  We can only exist in a detached stupor for so long. Even the most ideal paradise can grow boring and cause us to yearn for anything else so long as it is different.  

This chilling reflection was written during my meditation session. I find it comedic that coming to touch with my very center (which as you can tell is overly romanticized) gave rise to this fiendish little affront to decency. If this is what “detachment from self” truly is, then most of us would be far better off not coming anywhere near it. But, I suspect that this is all just the very first step toward “enlightenment.” If only I can find the nerve to put the next foot forward.

I will let you know that this was all written spontaneo. Whether that adds or detracts from it, I cannot say.