Quitting Facebook

It seems like a good idea, but for the fear that it will isolate me even more than it already does.

But there's just too much shit. Lazy shit. MY lazy shit too.

For starter's, with that volume of people, each spouting whatever it is their agenda leads them to do you cannot help but begin to categorize. It is too tempting to reduce them to a few adjectives, rather than appreciate the reality of their personality.

Also its a highly negative place. To properly engaged anything on a medium like facebook, across text and in front of such a theatre requires time and effort that most anyone is unwilling to invest. Instead we follow the path of least resistance. 'So-and-so disagrees with me or says what he/she says because they are stupid.'

Also facebook activism usually doesn't work. TL;DR. As a place of convenience, it is designed to let people see what they want to see. Ignorance is only a single ignore button away.

I said once that by concerning yourself with the best in people, that's what you get in return. But the best of people is often the part that they like to hide. Especially from the likes of Facebook. If I want to really know people facebook isn't the place to start.

So I'm leaning towards the quit. I'm scared. I'm already pretty lonely and I'm concerned that this will exacerbate such a feeling. But perhaps I should be focusing on having good quality relationships rather than thousands of dodgy online ones.

A slice of Pi.

This book, and this author is amazingly apt at saying very frank and difficult things about both the theist and atheist without them batting an eye.
In one story, or perhaps it is two, he derides the secularist (or perhaps the realist) for its shortcomings and commends the believer for their delusion.

I once did the reverse but have slowly found myself agreeing with Mr Yann Martel. I have been tempered by my own suffering. As I curdled in my depression I cared very little about it's realities. I used to despise faith as a crutch, forcing people to hobble around. But I think now I have been forced to see the ailments that plague us. Suffering is cruel enough without the added knowledge that it serves no ultimate purpose, or that it is not underpinned by promises of greater eternities.
For those strong enough, than yes, religion is best done away with. A strong leg need not be wrapped in a cast, and it is a shame when such a case is found.
I thought I was strong, and maybe I was once. But I fell. And the problem with a delusion is that it dies upon it's discovery. Self-delusion would have been a boon these harsh winters, but it is a tool I discarded long ago, in favour of other things that it could not sit with. I have come to question the utility of my choices. I like being consistent. I like being brave. I love the fact that my mind is so fearless.
But I don't like the misery. Passion is so much more scarce when you limit yourself to the real, and I am wanting, craving, and NEEDING to be a passionate man again. I HATE my apathys.


They are deluded with myths, and happy.
I am right with reason. and miserable.

To no longer need the evils of delusion to bring happiness,
I will strive to build a happiness in the dimensions of reality.

with some very weak legs.

Adaptation!

I have had to adapt to survive the harsh winters of Ballarat. It is eye-opening to see how little the world cares for you outside of those places and domains that you call home. I have grown more capable of dwelling there. But it has come at great cost.
The fundamental needs for human companionship demanded some sacrifice. To forgo my obsession with ideas in exchange for the more harmonious hum drum of getting along remains something that I am uncomfortable with.
The experience of the past two years has resulted in the slow death of my more interesting self. A self I now realize that didn't have the ability to self-sustain. Removed from the Life support of my dear brothers-in-arms it collapsed in upon its own shallow nature. Survival demanded that I be reduced to a frustratingly simpler creature; one that knew how to keep its home and put food in its belly and smiled and waved. A creature that I had been able to neglect all my life thanks to my fortune in the quality of my friends and family.
But witness the cost. Even now I don't speak on ideas or events, but merely on my own journey; a focus on the self that plagues all smaller people.
I don't deny that there has been some essential growth in the past two years. Roots taking place in very necessary places. But the colour of my leaves have faded, and my flowers have wilted. And I fear that there is too little within me to bloom them in a winter as cold as this.

I used apathy to break my fall, but it is like a cozy warm bed on a cold Ballarat morning. And I've never been good at getting out of bed.