2003-09-15
On order, disorder and chaos...
A lot of people seem to equate disorder with being a bad thing. I always wonder why this is. Why do they so desperately shut themselves within a box of order and routine? Is it the fear of not knowing?
Me, I prefer to mix my order liberally with heavy doses of disorder. Just ask anyone who's seen my desk.
In fact, I find too much rigidity and routine in my life stifling...
Once again, merely food for thought. No real purpose.
Edit: Okay, and I know language has to have order and structure to be useable. Okay. Happy now,
tremaine?
Me, I prefer to mix my order liberally with heavy doses of disorder. Just ask anyone who's seen my desk.
In fact, I find too much rigidity and routine in my life stifling...
Once again, merely food for thought. No real purpose.
Edit: Okay, and I know language has to have order and structure to be useable. Okay. Happy now,
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The man with no past...
A while back, I was visiting some friends, and they were all chatting about old experiences, some dating as far back as when they were all 5 years old. And I'fve suddenly realised- outside my family, there is no-one I'm still in contact with who knows me beyond four years ago. That leaves 20 years of my life which no-one knows about.
A sobering thought, with all this internet anonymity, that many people on the internet know me just as well as people in real life...
So, although I have told some people about some of the formative experiences in my life, the highs and lows and so forth, there's no-one who has seen me experience them, and no-one who remembers them save me, and my memories are tainted by my role in them- it's hard to be an objective observer of your own past.
Just call me the enigma, heh...
A sobering thought, with all this internet anonymity, that many people on the internet know me just as well as people in real life...
So, although I have told some people about some of the formative experiences in my life, the highs and lows and so forth, there's no-one who has seen me experience them, and no-one who remembers them save me, and my memories are tainted by my role in them- it's hard to be an objective observer of your own past.
Just call me the enigma, heh...