Well, it’s Friday again, but again, it’s not the end of the work week for me, anymore than Monday was a day off. My colleague who was out with a back injury did have minor surgery earlier this week; he went home the next day, but he’s supposed to rest and recover for a while, and I’m not sure whether he’ll even be back to the office next week. So, I’ll probably be writing a post tomorrow, since I’ll be going into the office. It’s something to look forward to, if you look forward to that sort of thing.
I don’t know for sure what to write about today. I mean, what I want to do is rant and rave and cry and all that, but I keep doing that over and over—at least that’s what it feels like—and it gets me no result whatsoever. No matter where and when I do it, I seem utterly unable to convey to anyone how much I feel like I’m barely holding on by my fingernails and am about to fall. I don’t know when my grip will give out, which is the nature of such dilemmas, unfortunately, and I cannot climb up on my own.
Well, falling is probably at least a sort of freeing feeling while it’s happening. It’s probably not the worst thing to experience, especially if you’re facing upward so you can’t see the ground rushing to get in the way of you being able to follow your geodesic through spacetime. Free fall is probably kind of cool, while it’s happening. Unfortunately, in Florida there aren’t really any high places—it’s literally flatter than Kansas—so there’s no very high place to fall from, except a building in a city somewhere, I suppose, and that’s dreary and messy and inconsiderate. One could sneak a ride on a rocket, I guess. But even the Artemis thing is delayed for a bit while they fix some kind of leak.
Now that I think about it, is Artemis launching from Cape Canaveral? I just assumed it was, but I’m not sure.
I have a new “housemate” moved in, and she seems benign enough. At least she doesn’t try to bother me, presumably partly because of the language barrier, which is fine. In a perfect world, it would probably be nice for me to practice my Spanish, but the world isn’t perfect, and I don’t want to have to deal with it. I can’t deal with other people at all, anymore, except when I have a specific task to achieve, and preferably a script. I don’t even use the kitchen or anything, I just stay in my room when I’m there, which is not very much of the time, really.
The really stressful thing is when I do my laundry on Sunday. This last Sunday it was okay—she was just moving in, though. Hopefully there’s no issue with it, because I don’t know if I can deal with even one more thing in the world, however slight or seemingly trivial. I certainly don’t want to deal with anything new.
I don’t want to deal with anything at all.
I wonder if, some day in the future, this blog will be a case study in the deterioration and final catastrophic destruction of a middle-aged adult male with undiagnosed Asperger’s Syndrome and chronic depression (aka dysthymia) and chronic pain, who had his health, his marriage, his career fall apart, went to prison because he didn’t grasp the nature of human chaos but just wanted to try to help other people who had chronic pain, a person who doesn’t see his children anymore, and is riding out his last days in America’s flaccid penis*.
Probably not. It’s not a very good story. The world will not much more notice or remember my presence and then my absence than it notices the stupid little insects that land on the back of my neck while I wait for the train, which I then unthinkingly crush (the insects, not the train) because I get an itchy feeling there and go to rub/scratch at it.
We’re all tiny and evanescent. I think I remember that Roger Penrose showed, in his book The Large, the Small, and the Human Mind, that on a log-log scale, going from the Planck length to the size of the accessible universe, humans are actually quite large…but if you can pick the way you represent things, what kind of graphing and scale you use, you can make things look more important than they might really be. David Deutsch’s arguments in The Beginning of Infinity are much more compelling, but I think he would be the first to admit that there is no guarantee that human civilization is the beginning of an infinite (or cosmically significant, anyway) progression; we are entirely capable of stagnation and self-destruction. I’m surely living proof of that.
I’m also a good demonstration of what Eliezer Yudkowsky points out, that the scale of intelligence that we should consider is not to compare very smart humans with not as smart humans, but use a scale that doesn’t depend on us as a point of departure. Of all life on Earth, we’re at the top tier of braininess, and all reasonably healthy humans are only a few real numbers apart from each other on a measure of intelligence that goes from, say, a virus up to Albert Einstein. But based on what we understand about the possibilities of information processing, there is no reason to think that the scale ends there. What a horrible universe it would be if there were no possibility of intelligence significantly greater than that of modern humans! Fortunately, it doesn’t seem to be the case.
Anyway, no matter how strong or smart or skilled you are, the space above you is always limitlessly greater—we’re all infinitely weak, infinitely stupid, and infinitely ignorant. In many ways, that’s a great fact; it means there will always be more that we can learn, more ways that we can grow. Improvement need never end, if improvement is what we keep trying to seek. But in order to improve, one has to recognize that one has room for improvement, and humans often think too highly of themselves. Humans are not the measure of all things, though they are understandably their own primary concern.
I don’t have any idea what point I’m trying to make. There probably is no point. There almost certainly is no point. I don’t know what to tell you. Try to have a good day.
*Florida. I moved here largely because my wife was tired of living in cold climates, and I liked Florida when I was a kid and my grandparents lived here, so I happily went along with it. And even after we were divorced, I’ve stayed here because my kids are here, and I long entertained the delusional notion that I might see them again, and would want to be nearby in case that happened. LOL. Things haven’t gone well for me here, though perhaps Florida is not to blame at any level.
Keep holding on. There are people who worry about you and loads that care. So many people can’t express their caring they just don’t know how. Hang tight and try to find anything good to look to. Yours always Lance
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