Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about why I write blog posts. Or really why I do anything. Not for any specific reason but mainly because I find the thoughts amusing. What merit do any of my actions have on Earth? in the Universe? to others? What I’ve come to conclude w/r/t writing is that I write to myself, for myself. There is no other reason. That is the sub-stratum beneath every single post I have written and perhaps everything I will write from this point forward. Does that mean I should continue? I am not saying that your opinion matters in this case. I am questioning myself. I am questioning everything that I surround myself with every single day because I cannot explain it.

There are so many things that I – nor anyone – can explain. This doesn’t mean it isn’t worth a try. After all, it’s fun. It makes life a little more interesting. A Saturday night spent engaging in lively conversation about the point of your existence would certainly prove more beneficial than a Netflix binge of “The Good Place” but that does not mean there is not room for both.

I’ve become increasingly hard on myself lately. I do not know why. There is something at the back of my head screaming at me telling me to do better. That I am not enough. That I will never be enough. I’ve come to see these screams as whispers and disregard them as subconscious notions of self-improvement motto’s that have been drilled into my head over the past couple years. This does not add up. I am really tired of feeling like I am not enough because I know that it isn’t true. I just want to sit in my room alone and contemplate my existence without having to remind myself that my existence is useless and everything is futile. I feel like Jon the Savage, D-503 or Winston Smith: like society forces me to behave in some fashion and I must do my best to refute that ideology while adhering to it. It’s a somewhat painful way to go through life and I can’t say I enjoy it all that much in retrospect.

Even this blog – which started as a project with potential for self-discovery, introspection and a novel way to express myself – has become a tool to project myself into mainstream media while I allow my thoughts to be judged by people I barely know. I admit this is becoming somewhat of a manifesto, which was not my intention. I suppose there were just some things I needed to say.

I do not care what anyone thinks about the things I write. Until I learn to become separated by the facade of mainstream media I will not be posting on this blog. It does not feel right.

I do not endorse this Tortured Artist Fallacy. I do not have to resent myself or the society in which I live in order to create great art. I think there is far more to my existence than meets the eye of the Internet. Until I feel comfortable with that existence and my ability to write about it, this is The End.

The last ten or so blog posts of mine have been a rant with myself about how overwhelmed I feel and how little I seem to think of myself, or at least that is how I’ve seen and felt about it. That is not okay. Although, as I mentioned earlier, the sub-stratum beneath every post is myself. That is why I write, for me. But that doesn’t need to be the case. I don’t want that to be the case. Or at least I don’t want to make it so blatantly obvious to you. This blog is not a place for me to complain about my problems and vent. It is a place for me to express myself and the issues that I see arising in society (or in my own head). But I feel like I have been complaining far too much and that does a disservice to everyone, including myself.

So, with a tinge of sadness and regret,

goodbye, blog posts.

They’ll all still be here of course. Just goodbye for now I guess.


Learning and Living

As I take a step back in preparation for my first year in University, I’ve come to notice some patterns that I use to approach learning, particularly when it comes to new subjects. In order to develop some context I’d like to give you an example of what my previous approach looked like throughout grade school and high school until grade 12: Continue reading “Learning and Living”

Box Theory

Where did all these boxes come from?

It seems like everything we do happens inside a box, inside a bigger box, inside a bigger box, ad infinitum. For most of us, there is nothing else. We eat in a box, sleep in a box, work in a box, anything and everything happens inside a box. By box I mean something created for the human species to occupy, take care of and expand. There are physical boxes outside of us, but there are also theoretical boxes inside of us. We must pay just as much attention to the latter kind. Continue reading “Box Theory”

If This Isn’t Life, What Is?

There is a reminiscent feeling attached to high school. Especially the school where I have attended the past 3 years, from grades 10 to 12. So much happened and seemingly affected the course of my life forever. But in retrospect, the past four years make up less than a quarter of my life. Every day that passes will make high school a smaller portion of the life I have lived. I don’t know whether that is good or bad. Here are some of my realizations and reflections. Continue reading “If This Isn’t Life, What Is?”