Humans are like irrational numbers.

2008-12-08T21:34:00.000-08:00

This is something I just found in an old blog I used to have... I wrote it when I was like 15 or something, but it kind of makes you think. I was depressed at the time and really just trying to figure out what the heck the point of life was. And somewhere in there, I came up with this...

I think it's really weird to think about the past. People are just so attached to it, and we are definitely all preceded by it. I mean, you'd think people could just let it go... well, I guess it's hard to let go of the things that define you. But the past is really all that defines us; it's who we are, how we're remembered. And, I guess that kinda makes sense... But how is someone ever supposed to look at their future and decide what to do with it when everyone's obsessed with the past?

It's kind of strange to think that last year at this exact moment, you never would have even thought that so much as ten percent of the things that happened in the next year (this year) would have happened. I mean, of course nobody really ever gets where they thought they would be- it's kind of impossible. Too much changes. That's not to say that if someone wanted to be a teacher and grew up to be a teacher, they wouldn't be. That's just saying that they never probably would've thought they would have half the experiences they did along the way. What's even more akward is to think the same way about even the next day of your life- the next ten minutes even. I mean, you never really have any idea what the hell could happen. That's kinda weird... to think that in five minutes I may still be writing something in this blog, or that I may decide to get up and play with my cat, or a meteor could shoot through my bedroom window. Although the last option is extremely and very highly unlikely, you never know...

But still, it's amazing to me how you can think you know what you want to do with your life one day- and know for such a long period of time- and then just wake up and go, "I don't think that's for me anymore. I need to try something else." That is proof that we are ever changing. That's also why the average number of career changes in a lifetime is three, although that's not the point. I think that sometimes the point of life is trying to actually *figure out* the point of life, and what we're all supposed to be doing. Of course you can never really be sure of what you're supposed to be doing, but somewhere in the back of your head you know that what you're doing is what you should be doing because you're doing it. If you weren't supposed to be doing it, it wouldn't have happened that way and you would be doing something else. "What happened happened, and couldn't have happened any other way."

I honestly don't know where this is going, or where this came from, but I think it's relevant. It kind of goes along with the whole "humans are like irrational numbers" thing. I mean, humans cannot be collectively represented by a single figure, just as irrational numbers can't be represented by any sort of fraction. Humans are always changing and never go back to being the exact same person they have been at any point in their lives thus far, just as irrational numbers are non-terminating decimals that never enter into a patterned sequence... We are all so existentially different, yet we try in vain, day after day, to better understand each other. We futily attempt to find out what makes each and every person tick, when in reality that is such a waste of time.

As much as we are alike, we are more than a billion times different than one another. Humans can be calculated, guesstimated, estimated, rounded, averaged, crunched into logarithms, statistics, equations, and square miles; our "value" can be "measured" by per capita and tax dollars, and we can be tracked by forms, the census, GPS navigational systems in cars, chips in cell phones, and identified by race, gender, social status, income, and DNA, among other things, but we can never be completely figured out.

That is amazing, and at the same time the most frightening thought ever.

Inside Looking Out

2008-12-02T19:53:00.001-08:00

Morning:
Alone she sits in her room, surrounded by the comfort of her everyday, familiar things; her tv, her couch, the grey stain on her beige carpet... Yet, the familiarity of these things can offer her no comfort, no solace in their place in her day to day life.

Pensively she sits on the chair, perched on the edge as if she were going to jump up and take action against the many things that needed fixing in her life at any second. She wishes... she wishes and prays for many things, many people, and many lives, but alas, no answer or really even acknowledgement. She can only have faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Afternoon:
She sits in the library, attempting to finish her homework and study for a test, but she is unsuccessful. She feels as though being in the library somewhat lets her hide- escape, even- from the troubles in her everyday life. But it is only when she is in the library that she is reminded of the fact that the most painful sound in the world is silence. The sound of silence, although thought to be "golden" by many, kills her slowly, from the inside out. It is as though she is being torn apart from every direction, but is quickly going nowhere at the same time.

It is only in silence that she is reminded of her thoughts. Every last one entering her head and lingering for a while- just long enough for her to remember why she hates being alone, why she beats herself up day after day about other people's problems that she tries immensely to fix, knowing that her efforts are futile; she is reminded of why she often does not let herself indulge in the pleasure that some acquire by being alone in the silence.

She is reminded that she has a heart, a mind, a soul, a conscience... but does she ever really forget?

Evening:
She clunks up the stairs and throws herself onto her bed; she has finally arrived at the place she feels most at home- her home. Ironically, this is the same place she feels most like a stranger to herself, lately. Lying there, thinking, she reviews the earlier events of the evening- some happily, others not so happily. She remembers what it felt like to have someone lust after her, what it felt like to think that someone else besides her friends and family cared; she remembered being used, and shockingly liking it- even if just for a second or two.

Once again, she was reminded that she has a heart, a mind, a soul, a conscience. But has she ever really forgotten...? No. To do so would be impossible. She has only avoided all logic, reasoning, and emotions- all of which came rushing back to her in that instant... that instant she arrived at her home- the place she feels most assured and unsure. The place she feels most comfortable, and yet still cannot be herself.

Steffy's World

Humans are like irrational numbers.

Inside Looking Out