To Last from First: An Epic Loventure

This is the story of a man’s love voyage. It begins with a deep friendship between two fellow emo nerds in high school. It ends with the gift of my soul’s dream to another.

Once, a high school student lent his history notes to a classmate in English. The English teacher–who assigned readings of Jane Eyre and 1984–did not seem to notice. Though the main character did not know it, this classmate would become his first love.

Our protagonist’s second love followed from the first. This love was pretty with blue eyes, platinum blonde hair, and pale skin. The two enjoyed a nice summer together with their two best friends before saying goodbye, as each departed for their respective beach college.

The hero’s third love began over the internet, extending across the Atlantic Ocean from America to a Transylvanian castle. Disenchanted with his college’s shallow dating scene, the man falls in love with a charming woman’s prose. The two embarked upon a love journey of astonishing philosophical depth.

As his hero’s journey was ending, the man fell in love one last time. The woman this time was one he had met before at his home, purely by chance. He would be her first love, much as his own was for him; both his first and last loves were good friends and bridesmaids of his best girl friend in high school.

This has been my love voyage. There is no telling just how love will be born or come to be, but we must follow it to the very end. Will you and I, both–forever and together?

Gobbledepoop

At least as much as modern analytic culture’s mind-matter problems have been its most vibrantly-pulsating and difficult theoretical emergences, may epistemic uncertainties and strong sentiments regarding free will and agency co-originate the crux of naturalism vs. constructivism controversies.

Shifting your momentums for me

Health Dharma: the creed of today. Getting over someone by their direction and obeying one’s own conscience may lead in the same direction…. Namely, that of the embodied body.

Acting out one’s heart, soul, etc. is demanded. What are the superficial qualities of the mission? The bearded man of PCH–try and keep that thought in your pants…

“Mirror neurons complicate individualism.” Let future fake-you’s die indefinitely. Do not be clouded by this worry!

Noodles beget noodles: could that be a real Hot Cheeto bummer? Playing the liberal game isn’t always the same as taking my epistemic time. (But–it could be!)

What the shirt dictates: suppress the aesthetic. To be totalitarian versus wise is perhaps no more salient than in the case of accessible pornography. Oh; the unconscious possibilities!

Waving the commitment banner is impossible when our vows seem to have been made in vain…

Solving for the trauma of superheroes

Have you ever wondered about the experience–i.e., the phenomenology–of superheroes like Marvel’s Daredevil (Matt Murdock), or DC’s Batman (Bruce Wayne) and Green Arrow (Oliver Queen)? Each of theirs is a story on how heroes plagued with trauma cope via their personal mission. A “sub-phenomenology” of trauma is possible when repressed traumatic content passes into the subconscious, or sub-awareness.

Once such content passes into the subconscious, it can be treated. But before being treated, the peculiar kind of trauma should be identified. Is it grief caused by loss: as is the case for Matt, Bruce, and Oliver?

It occurred to me while outlining this post that art immersion could serve as relief therapy. Assuming trauma has not been prevented, and once sufficient insight has been gained on its nature, it should be cured. Once cured, we could move toward establishing the right prevention parameters!

No Space High

Who needs an approval boat when we can ride this soul high-train onto tomorrow! Patient urgency is the key for any low-key Buddhist*. Incidentally, we can be tit-for-tat in relationships–but should we? Do we need to be…?

Consumerism begets consumerism. Therefore, don’t buy anything and save! Take a bite outta that regret pie…or, not?

Some situations are extroverted. Let’s drop any logical pretense about it! And while we’re at it, metaphorical self-death does not befit a life-affirming introvert. Let go of your death grip on the steering wheel and see how your (hand) health benefits…

Being an existential boyfriend is less–but seems like more–than anyone ever bargained for. Any guy who’s succumbed to it knows: “There is a feeling to madness.” There is a feeling of being pushed to the limit of my soul…

Do you know it?

Being pulled toward the memes is not what results in automating love into my being. Science is what could do that, apparently.

*Don’t ask me what high-key Buddhists do with their Wednesday afternoons…

Oddworld: A tale of liberation and restoration

I played the original Oddworld: Abe’s Odyssey as a kid with my brother. I have fond memories of it–which is saying a lot, perhaps, given the game’s general grimness. In any event, I was happy that a remake was on the Nintendo Switch’s online store for me to buy!

Oddworld is a story of liberating slaves from their oppressors (viz., Sligs). A big idea is that faith is the Sligs’ enemy, and should be harnessed to the extent possible. To harness his power to the fullest, Abe has to visit ancient lands to acquire wisdom lost to most of his brothers.

I didn’t remember everything just as it happened in the original game. Specifically, I was awed by the Shrykull chant Abe gains after visiting both Paramonia and Scrabvania. The idea here is that animals were once regarded as sacred, but in the wake of pre-industrialization, they became viewed as raw material for tasty food.

This Oddworld story is about gaining animistic–“animystic”, anyone?–power to undo the moral wrongs of Abe’s society. These wrongs include desacralization of both animals (granted though they are monstrous) and individuals, the latter of whom are treated as slaves. I did receive the “bad ending”: I must have been just a few Mudokons short of having the good one, instead; but I still enjoyed revisiting a game with deeper meaning than I initially grasped, with poetry interspersed and potty humor to lighten the overall mood.

Subjective vs. objective belief

I shared a funny Onion article I found on Facebook some months ago. The article describes a fictional boy returning home after receiving his undergraduate philosophy degree. The boy remarks to his father that: “There is no rational justification for belief!” Today, this has gotten me thinking about a more subjective view of belief versus the one I engaged with as an undergrad in philosophy. In the latter, knowledge is equated with justified true belief (in mathematical form–K=JTB).

Certainly, K=JTB is the preferred formula for scientific belief. Empirical science relies on the shared sensory perception of data, and established analytic procedures to run it through. K=JTB seems a useful philosophical companion to this hypothetico-deductive approach to reaching knowledge*.

K=JTB clearly shows that–in order to attain knowledge–belief should be (rationally) justified. But it occurred to me that there are certain kinds of belief of the more subjective kind that cannot be plugged into K=JTB, yet are nonetheless indispensable. I am thinking particularly of religious knowledge, or more appropriately conviction. Intuitive knowing of this kind might seem risky at the outset, yet we are always operating under a certain degree of uncertainty. Conviction is what pushes us through such moments to make a decision and be open to its consequences.

And while experience might not be empirically falsifiable (though it can be dismissed), it may still be shared meaningfully between participants. Such individuals can trust their experience and share interpretations of it with the involved other; these interpretations can meld into a common understanding of what has taken place. Experience seems to demand subjective belief if we are to view the former as inherently meaningful.

*Of course, data science has its own hierarchy of knowledge, where data becomes information which becomes knowledge. Belief’s role is unclear here.

The Wild Area: A place of freedom and encounter?

As I type this, I sit atop a nearby Starbucks patio. Overlooking the streets and ocean, I am reminded of the freedom we had (in California) pre-pandemic. Things feel freer than they have in a very long time!

There are a handful of folks around me. Though we all sit in our respective islands, there seems to be a frank happiness. Our masks are off and we all enjoy sitting under the same sun.

This is by no means a Wild Area of the kind seen in the latest main series games, Pokémon Sword and Shield. And it certainly isn’t a frozen tundra the likes of which made up the landscape of their second DLC, Crown Tundra. There certainly is no snow falling for me on this calm, bright, and sunny day.

But I feel here a sense of wonder and openness as the Crown Tundra’s outdoor theme plays in my mind…the world feels magical, yet settled. There is a freedom here that a simple, consumerist cup of cappuccino has enabled! A vaguely familiar face to my left completes the picture of a gradual return to normalcy–albeit, a mindful one.

Life phrasin’

Estarto

“Necessary feelings, only.” I’m feeling the white-hot feeling of self-respect! We are all convenient conflators across a rich range of emotionality. Love torn in two is not a whole love (a hole has been shorn into it…). Chanda was impregnated into the womb of my mind by Mama~

He who is triggered–in the soft, weak, emotional sense (really, the only kind)–loses. Minimum perturbations can shatter him. Frustration, itself, is the dark side of passion.

Yet–we are embodied souls! Love makes all of our best-argued arguments invalid (hear that, Soundness?). Roll your love up into an everlasting burrito of Love–for Chanda! A real rajma burrito for din…

Breaking through the hubristic debris, I back down away from certain situations. These include lonely, social app down scrolls during the wee hours of night. Screens are unconscious, symbolic imprints engendered via the “pure” semiotic encounter. (They don’t mean anything; not inherently!)

Curse–nay, bless–my moderate psychological sensibilities!

She was just an emissary of the eternal feminine. I have been doing my relative best! With the yearning for adventure on my heart–Zoom panoplies; “texy tecthics” (whatever they may be, sexy text-tonics…?). 

Chromebook questions on that latter one, anyone? I am but a simple tutor, my liege! Ask away, m’ boi…

Psychological permissibility does not extend to the phenomenon of stress-gaming. What an odd-handed endeavor…that’s the soul? (No.) No need to bypass an adventure: not when my soul is so lit up with Spirit!

What to do with a COVID-locked trail of COVID following a probable non-offender? Let him go. Let him–as you would anyone a true, blue, hue-woe-manist would. 

Finito