I don't understand it when people say things like 'long run'. Today I talked to an old friend and she asked me what it was I wanted to do. I said I wanted to study, maybe not immediately, but right now it was the only thing I saw myself doing. She looked at me curiously, and asked me what that meant in the long run. I feel like essentially, we are afraid of the fragmented nature of our existence. If we set ourselves truly free, we would wake up every morning feeling something new, wanting something different. In concept, that could sound like a good thing, but fragmentation has been contested since the beginning of time. We have lived in structures of morality and immorality. Of conformity and subversion. We exist in categorization, in thinking we are it, or not it. Time has always been known as a linear scheme, today goes to tomorrow, may becomes june and winters become spring. This struggle, to keep our linearity going, to find meanings from and into the structure is our crisis. When I think of places I have found meaning, it is in transience, in a smell, in the touch of a fresh pressed new garment, in a fleeting moment of something I couldn't comprehend. I think about a certain Camus that I read yesterday, in which he says that Beauty drives us to despair, because we attempt to stretch a glimpse of beauty (I think he speaks here about being in love) for all of eternity. One touch of a lover, one meeting of eyes and exchange of thoughts and one instant of being the same entity is then attempted to be stretched into forever by terming it, by enacting for it an entire future. There is only one instant, and that is eternity.
I am told I have an illness, because my moods escalate and my emotions are at times dangerously potent and cannot be contained. It is our fear of the instant, of the instability of constant change that causes us to polarize, to unify, to stuff everything we experience into a tube reaching a definition.
It is 6 a.m now leave to meet my mother at the cross roads of our inverse physical cycles.