Once again, I use this old technique of writing without having an idea as to what to write about. No topic, no particular train of thought, no purpose.
But the act of writing it itself requires a stream of thinking in order to put one word in front of another and make sentences. I don't even begin a sentence knowing where it's going, which is weird since the sentence ends up happening. I'll take an moment to analyze my sentence choice mechanism.
I seem to have a vague starting idea, though I really don't what to do with it as the sentence begins. Most of the sentences seem to start off with a subject, so I guess I know what it is I want to write about, even without knowing much else. Then as the sentence starts, I have to start to worry about grammar and structure, which seems to require an edited word here or there. When the edit happens, I have a brief moment where my mind seems to decide what direction the sentence is going to go, and the grammar starts to form to support it. Some sentences end up being a repeated thought, or are just so devoid of purpose that they get erased altogether, while THESE are the ones that make it through.
Once one sentence is made, the next is easy. Expand on the statement of the previous one. Maybe correct some minor aspect of it, rephrase it to make it more specific or make it fit into a potential thought, but generally the idea is to build on the previous idea. Ideally, that would result in multiple thought possibilities that can be explored, which can mean either I've got a few sentences ahead already planned, or it's time to change the direction. When the thoughts start to get dry and the idea is tapped for anything interesting, that's when it's time for a paragraph break, allowing for a topic shift. Generally that topic shift will be minor in that it would be a parallel thought process to the previous one, but different enough that it's going to explore another side of it. Or, since this is more of an informal journal, it can be a complete shift in everything from topic to tone.
Fuck did I just write? Am I seriously explaining the minutia of thoughts that occur in the time it takes me to type? Am I that tapped for novel ideas? Has my life gotten THAT stagnant?
Of course it has. Maybe it always was.
I'm not working these days. Living without a job feels like living without an identity. Which is extremely sad from a living being perspective. The magic and glory of being one of the only objects in the galaxy (and seemingly much of the universe) capable of observing, understanding and philosophizing about the environment around it, and I feel incomplete because I'm not moving dirt around?
SIDE NOTE:
I realized that the most common job throughout the entirety of human history is moving dirt. Considering how far back agriculture goes and that moving dirt is a huge part of that job, from tilling to irrigation, it's kind of crazy. Then factor in construction of pretty much every building ever involves moving dirt and it doesn't seem unreasonable to think that more man hours have been spent moving dirt that performing any other task.
I wonder if that's my own failing, or if society's pressures are to blame to making someone feel like they need to be performing productive tasks for the benefit of someone else in order to be allowed a sense of value.
It seems easy to blame society. Everywhere you look, people behave a way and repeat certain thoughts. It seems easy to blame the wealthy, or the government, or any sort of politics, or marketing/propaganda, or the mindlessness of the rabble that enable all of the above. Their voices are loud, mine is so silent it's basically non existent. Does that absolve me from blame? I'm part of society after all, so aren't I at fault?
I think hopelessness comes from the lack of options. What can I do? Go back to work and get paid decent money to lift stuff for fat, wealthy shit bags? Do I go to school and pay tens of thousands of dollars (or more) to learn some new craft and try to make a living doing that? Isn't that just a lateral shift?
How does one make a decision when they are devoid of passion? What is worth doing in a world where no one gives a shit about you anyway. It's like choosing what kind of slave you want to be. What mode would you like to use to waste your life? What flavor of shit would you like to eat?
I've been down this road so many times. There is no answer. I just keep finding new words to say the same old thing. Maybe that's all life is.
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