the last embassy
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20 August 2002 (Tuesday)


Hm. Posts here may slow to a crawl soon (as if they hadn't already). I've been deliberately vague in my descriptions of job #2 here, so as to keep the two separate, but now that my life consists almost entirely of job #2, it's hard to know what to talk about. I'd chronicle my adventures with Pasta-Roni and packing tape, but that would require more wit of the variety, which I haven't got.

Death and my own cosmic insignificance are two things that I find immensely comforting. This thing I'm doing, this act of living, will come to an end one day; I won't be confined to this consciousness forever. The decisions I make will have a profound effect on my immediate surroundings, maybe even the planet Earth as a whole, but beyond that I have little influence. There's such freedom in that thought -- definite bounds placed on my responsibilities as a speck in the universe. Some people find the same thought terrifying, I suppose, because of the flip side: what stands between them and nothingness, futility, the arbitrariness of existence? It would be terrifying to me, too, except that I like it here. I get to taste anxiety and hope, lust and hatred; I get to see clouds moving across a blue sky and wind knocking rain against a window. I get no clear answers on what's right and wrong, only theories formed by people as fallible as I am; I get aspirations with no promise that I can fulfill them. Somewhere in last night's dream, I was asked to write on a piece of paper the things I was grateful for. The moment before I woke up, I was about to write the word uncertainty.

posted by enjelani @ 12:15 PM PST [ link ]