Skip to main content

It's weird feeling nostalgia for something I have no interest in returning to.

I used to post on message boards at a lot. Enough to become a mod, to show up in fan fics (where I had a surprising streak of not dying), to make friends online and in real life, and to waste a good chunk of my late teens through mid-twenties. At some point, I even began to sometimes think of myself (in mental self-referential address) by the initials of my main handle, 'Bastard Knight'. That online life lasted almost 8 years, but then (finally) I got bored, so I left.

I had promised myself sometime prior, I would never make a thread about leaving. Those always annoyed me. If I left, I would just get the fuck out. My final topic was, "You are boring," where I offered to probably not tell anyone who posted in the topic how mind numbingly uninteresting they had become. No one took it as an insult, because I insulted people there all the time.

Anyway, today, I was trying to remember something from back then. So I did a quick search online, and found some archives of old forum detritus. I don't miss being there at all: refreshing every couple of minutes, staying up all night to argue inanities, watching over boards and posters as a mod, eventually being disconnected from it all, but behaviourally addicted. But, just now, I sort of miss the time when it was fun, and (to a lesser extent) the now irrellevant format of the old Internet.

Apparently, there were rumours that I had died after my absence was noted, as well as an abortive, faux screenplay written about users searching for my online persona. It didn't get so far as them discovering my corpse or anything, though, so I guess I remain immortal in GameFAQs related fanfiction. That's something.



Popular posts from this blog

Well now.

I think I'm going to try to revive my online writing habits, outside of Facebook.

And what have I been thinking or feeling in the interim, across the last couple years or so? Well, I'm glad you asked.

In part, this.

Pointless Ruminations on the Absurd

The world around us is in no way required to conform to our expectations, beliefs, or desires. Rather, it is all but guaranteed to disappoint us, at least once or twice a lifetime. The loftier (or more deeply felt) our ideals, the more this may be true.

When we accept this incongruity and are keenly aware of it, but cannot change our thinking, absurdity steps in. The world no longer quite makes sense. It is untethered from rational or moral concerns, adrift in a bizarre joke told by no one.
Desire for normative order is often irrational and misplaced. Placing ethical constraints on amoral matters makes no sense. Yet these appear (sometimes, seemingly) inescapable conclusions. Hence the sensation of absurdity.

We can apply these incongruous demands to anything and anyone. But this is not a universal philosophy. It is a philosophy of the self, a diagnosis.

Happy Valentine's Day

Mindful concentration and earnest effort make health, safety, and creativity more likely, but there are no guarantees. Every plateau has a cliff. Each incline can become a decline. These paths require attention. When we traverse uncertain ground in the darkness, if the wind sweeps past, we may keep our feet or we may lose our footing and tumble down.
When I requested February 14th off from work, I didn't expect to spend the day alone, you know. Now, it's just another day on which I should be doing chores. There is so much to do around my small apartment. It's almost amazing. But of course I realize, keeping our spaces clean requires persistent effort, as well.
Still, there are cliffs all around. Some of them seem treacherous, others quite comfortable.