What if the world started to make sense?

The first key in understanding seems the implicit function of language. The way the mind appears warped when inflicted upon the English language’s parameters. If one hears how great he/she is, eventually SHe start to believe the nonsense. If one hears how terrible he/she is, eventually SHe believes life to be pretty miserable. Whatever dialogue, internal or external, one works at to perceive the most seems to dissolve into the softie tissue of the brain.

“Just be yourself.” I heard that over and over till I actually started to believe. Yet, I could not tell others who I seemed to be. Another book read, another notion to contemplate, another theory absorbed, all these facets of humanity and I am supposed to consolidate down to how I thought I am. But I cannot be myself since I cannot accurately define myself to a given space/time construct. I believe I could only surmise how I perceived my notion of reality. I do not believe I could define how things actually exist, and do not conceive of, at least upon how I understand English, a language that can define reality at any given moment. Abstraction of events is all that can be surmised from human brain activity. Reality remains a fiction to the space/time construct.

Take for example how you are reading this right now. Define how you are reading this. The standard definition would say that I am reading this on a computer monitor viewed through an Internet browser. That seems like an adequate definition, but this answer would not parlay information to someone say 200 years from the past or from the future. If we could not do this then we could only surmise that “reality” changes through a new iteration of sociological, ecological, and epistemological input. So we have to define how a computer comes about to work, how it is connected, how electricity came into the house, what is made of the house, ect. Then even further we could go into how physics would define our space with each molecule in a certain arrangement. And the further we go, we eventually come upon the idea that whatever we define “reality” as through the scope of language seems to always go through a process of infinite regress.

The notion of “just be yourself” seems faulty to me. The outcome of this seems to be a lack of curiosity into what one could act like. As far as I am concerned, every person seems to be an actor in one way or another whether the emotions that preclude, exclude, or indulge are aware in the participant.

 

Don’t just be yourself. Don’t limit the capacity for ongoing change. Display the innumerable passions into what you want to be. If you don’t have passions, fake it. Act it out in your head, research it, play the part. Method acting does not just work on film.

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