It’s Monday again‒the last Monday of September in 2025. This day, in this month, in this year, will never come again. Or, well, even if the universe is one big closed time-loop of some kind, it seems quite clear that the scale of it is so huge that it may as well be eternity before this time will come around again.
And then, of course, even if it does come around again, it’s not as though we would be aware of it. I’ve brought up before the notion of it being like people in movie on a DVD or Blu-ray or what have you; at each moment, the characters are, from their viewpoint, facing an uncertain future with many possibilities, and yet we the viewers know that exactly the same things will happen to them, and they will do exactly the same things each time we watch the movie.
That’s all old hat, I guess (a weird expression, but somehow it works). But it is interesting to consider occasionally, and then to think about where (if anywhere) quantum indeterminacy fits into such a picture, from the possible “many worlds” Everettian version of quantum mechanics to things like superdeterminism on the other end and so on.
Whatever. Sorry, I sometimes get a little swept up in such matters, and it probably gets quite boring for my readers.
Anyway, I did not go to work on Friday, and that’s why I didn’t write a blog post. My apologies. I felt truly horrible at a sort of pan-corporeal level; it almost felt as if I were experiencing the effects of some kind of poison (though I do not actually suspect such a thing, it’s just a way to convey my experience). I think something “global” and metabolic was going on, though I guess it might have been some viral syndrome or other. I’m not feeling completely better, even today.
I also scratched my right eye in my sleep apparently, on Thursday night, and that didn’t help matters. Thankfully, the conjunctivae heal very quickly, so that’s mostly better now. It’s still a little irritated, and so it is irritating, but that should just be a matter of time.
As for anything else, well…I have nothing, really. That applies in more than one sense, now that I think about it. But in this case, I mean that I have nothing interesting in mind about which to write. It doesn’t help that I’m doing this on my smartphone, which makes writing slower and also a bit painful.
I really should bring the mini lapcom back to the house with me. It’s so much easier to write on it‒it really allows me to be in some ways more fluent and fluid even than when speaking (although if you get me started on a subject in which I’m interested, I can talk at a rate that will make most people wish for me to get severe laryngitis).
It’s tough, however, to talk with my six pm self to get him to want to bring the lapcom, when he’s globally fatigued at the end of the workday. Likewise, he has a hard time making excuses to my morning self, who is still fatigued and who has sore thumb bases.
Nominally, of course, they are “the same” person‒and taking “the person” as the four-dimensional self-reinforcing and self-sustaining pattern that I am, like a complex braid in spacetime, one would say that they are indeed the same person, or at least that they are parts of the same person. But as an experiential matter, they are subjectively quite different, instantiating different states of body and mind.
Oh, they are obviously far more alike than unalike‒the morning me is closer by far in overall state to the afternoon me than to any state of any other person, let alone any other animal or what have you. But still, the Buddhist (and similar systems of thought) notion of the lack of any fixed “self” riding around inside the mind like a homunculus is clearly correct.
There is no “center” of consciousness in the brain except for the whole brain itself. But even that does not exist in a vacuum*. Its state is influenced by the states of the rest of the body, of the environment, of the information coming into the person’s mind via the senses, and so on.
It’s a fucking complicated system, okay? It’s the most complicated thing‒at least on this scale‒of which we are aware. By that, I mean human (and humanoid) minds and brains in general, not mine specifically. I have a fairly high judgment of my own intelligence, but I’m not as egotistical as all that.
Maybe I should try to be. Maybe I should cultivate a sense of self-importance and specialness (why is that not “specialty”?) that would keep me feeling nominally good about myself. But people like that are so boring and annoying and even pitiful. I don’t know if going that way would be more triumph or surrender. It would probably be the latter.
Oh, well. Try to have a good day.
*Unless it’s a Boltzmann Brain, which is pretty unlikely. You can know you’re not a Boltzmann Brain if you continue to exist for more than a few seconds before disintegrating into the global entropy of a nearly empty universe. Although, of course, your memories of having existed for more than a few seconds may simply be false memories, a real possibility in principle in any Boltzmann Brain. But contemplating those possibilities reveals that they would make baseless any notion we have of consistent physical laws, including the laws that allow for Boltzmann Brains (if they do, which is questionable), so it gets pointless pretty quickly.
