The I represented by the identity Jack Baldwin is a fiction, it's a costume I don in order to have influence in this world. Based on actions known and unknown people lend me their influence, This is pretty well known among folks using the net, it's the idea of endorsing someone on linkdin. People will endorse people for anything, before getting rid of my linkdin account I was seemingly capable of outstanding feats in the professional sphere. Even in the twitter verse the labels fly willy nilly, I've made lists from MBA's to UX designer, to web developer. Truth be told, I have been attempting to find my place in the world. You know the one, that thing everyone is supposed to have, where they become engrossed, and content. That life we are supposedly born to live, the perfect job, spouse, house. That place where life can flow by in a blur, while we are busy living it. Does such a thing even exist for all of us? When broken down, most of these perfect things are the same I've actively avoided for one reason or another. If we all are free to choose, if freewill is the rule, how can there be a singular life that will fulfill a person? Don't I have to choose the life that I will be fulfilled by?
What is that perfect job? When I hear words of work, career, business, the connotation is not one of pleasure and joy, even labors of love hit the wall, reach the point of diminishing returns, where the effort required to improve becomes as great as the effort it took to achieve the current skill. The idea of work is an odd one, people sold on the premise of effort, or labor when the ideals of production is to off load as much labor and cost as possible while keeping profits at their maximum. I've had lots of jobs, they all were just that, job done out of a feeling of need, or lack. There has never been that feeling of excitement attached to work. Even in areas where it's a hobby or play that transitions into being compensated, once it's for pay it's not play anymore. It becomes a thing having to be done in order to survive, or in order to do other things. For me I guess that is what work represents, and why I am so resistant to being a worker. The view of work as being something you do in order to be able to do something else. What is and isn't productive is an odd thing, when it comes down to it, if the everything is energy, and energy can not be destroyed or created, how can we be said to be doing more than moving stuff around?
Of course for many love relationships are the all consuming passion of life. Finding that special someone, falling in love, raising a family. Except, is there really this romantic notion of love, what even is love? Does the acts involved in the continuation of species, or procreation really have all that much to do with what we generally equate with the mating rituals, or romance? Having rejected religious notions of marriage, right along with the civil notions of registering the relationship with the state. Like being open, caring and sharing with a person isn't tough enough, it's seemingly the custom across the board to bring the expectations of god, the state, and family members into new relationships. Really do we need religion peeking over our shoulders while grope hot and heavy, or fumble with a zipper or button? When I saw you, it wasn't your personality that made me look twice, your education didn't lock my gaze to your swaying hips. It wasn't thoughts of love, it was some serious animal attraction, lust. You know those things many are embarrassed to cop too, that it's tits, or asses, or feet, or whatever our fetish is. The person you are might captivate my attention for a time, but I am complete unto myself, For me it's about getting lost in how amazing another is, of communion, That feeling that you can not be right for someone else, till your right with yourself. Experience has smacked around a bit, when it comes to this one. Seems the biological drives dovetail really well with the psycho-social conditioning, with my ideology leaving much to be desired from the ideals set forth. In other words I've been single a long time, not out of lack of opportunity, just out of risk versus reward evaluations.
I guess when you've set your own life as not overly important in fabric of human development, while railing against the prevailing ideological foundation of matter being preeminent, finding those spaces that suit you can be challenging. Answering those questions, of what is this about, why are we here, where are we going. If existence is a school, we all fail, there is no passing grade, If it's an illusion we make up as we go along, if we all exist in our own private Idaho, why are there all these assholes in my dream world? If this is a shared experience, a subjective collective, why are we creating so much drama, and suffering? Sure you can only go as high as you've gone low, might have merit, but we just have to be aware of the potential, we do not have to experience every little pit trap.
As ever make up your own mind
Jack
aka
PanseyBard
What is that perfect job? When I hear words of work, career, business, the connotation is not one of pleasure and joy, even labors of love hit the wall, reach the point of diminishing returns, where the effort required to improve becomes as great as the effort it took to achieve the current skill. The idea of work is an odd one, people sold on the premise of effort, or labor when the ideals of production is to off load as much labor and cost as possible while keeping profits at their maximum. I've had lots of jobs, they all were just that, job done out of a feeling of need, or lack. There has never been that feeling of excitement attached to work. Even in areas where it's a hobby or play that transitions into being compensated, once it's for pay it's not play anymore. It becomes a thing having to be done in order to survive, or in order to do other things. For me I guess that is what work represents, and why I am so resistant to being a worker. The view of work as being something you do in order to be able to do something else. What is and isn't productive is an odd thing, when it comes down to it, if the everything is energy, and energy can not be destroyed or created, how can we be said to be doing more than moving stuff around?
Of course for many love relationships are the all consuming passion of life. Finding that special someone, falling in love, raising a family. Except, is there really this romantic notion of love, what even is love? Does the acts involved in the continuation of species, or procreation really have all that much to do with what we generally equate with the mating rituals, or romance? Having rejected religious notions of marriage, right along with the civil notions of registering the relationship with the state. Like being open, caring and sharing with a person isn't tough enough, it's seemingly the custom across the board to bring the expectations of god, the state, and family members into new relationships. Really do we need religion peeking over our shoulders while grope hot and heavy, or fumble with a zipper or button? When I saw you, it wasn't your personality that made me look twice, your education didn't lock my gaze to your swaying hips. It wasn't thoughts of love, it was some serious animal attraction, lust. You know those things many are embarrassed to cop too, that it's tits, or asses, or feet, or whatever our fetish is. The person you are might captivate my attention for a time, but I am complete unto myself, For me it's about getting lost in how amazing another is, of communion, That feeling that you can not be right for someone else, till your right with yourself. Experience has smacked around a bit, when it comes to this one. Seems the biological drives dovetail really well with the psycho-social conditioning, with my ideology leaving much to be desired from the ideals set forth. In other words I've been single a long time, not out of lack of opportunity, just out of risk versus reward evaluations.
I guess when you've set your own life as not overly important in fabric of human development, while railing against the prevailing ideological foundation of matter being preeminent, finding those spaces that suit you can be challenging. Answering those questions, of what is this about, why are we here, where are we going. If existence is a school, we all fail, there is no passing grade, If it's an illusion we make up as we go along, if we all exist in our own private Idaho, why are there all these assholes in my dream world? If this is a shared experience, a subjective collective, why are we creating so much drama, and suffering? Sure you can only go as high as you've gone low, might have merit, but we just have to be aware of the potential, we do not have to experience every little pit trap.
As ever make up your own mind
Jack
aka
PanseyBard
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