Leave now if you don't like people tearing off on occasionally
self-righteous #%*#&%* sessions.
Right. Thanks for stopping by.
This rant is for June 22nd, 2001.
And it's not really a rant.
I'm waking up.
I never thought I'd have to do this.
I've grown arrogant--used to always being able to access memory
or at least give a good glare to someone who has it. Having any
actual blanks that affect the group is *not* tolerable. It means
that we have none of the professed selves-control that we've worked
for--the diplomatic arrangements, the organizations and the struggles
to keep on track with what society would like to think is a singleton's
Memory. I was used to that.
I'm waking up now and remembering the fit of my body. It's disconcerting--a
set of clothes I haven't worn in the longest time. There are old
wails that only now come back to me, stored up over the months of
things I was half-asleep through and didn't rouse to help fix.
I'll admit right now that I should have known better. As someone
who sticks up and watches out for the general group in here, I should
have done something quickly. And I tried, I'll admit that too. But
what are you supposed to say to someone who is truly happy with
the world and just doesn't see any other reason to continue on--that
the world doesn't need us anymore, that no one'll even know if we're
'real' or not in the end?
Because it's vanity and selfishness--in a collective way--to say
we're good enough to be here. Even if we are. That our happiness
should matter, and that we shouldn't just *make* ourselves happy
by tailoring out traits in us, but by affecting the world around
us. And anyone who is inconvenienced can go skip. Because it's what
everyone does. We all look for joy where we can.
But the only ones who can really protect ourselves are each other,
just like every other person. We've got responsibilities to ourselves
as individuals because--just like everyone else--in the end, we're
the ones who have to look out for ourselves. Saying that we don't
need to be taken care of because we're not important enough to retain
our *selves* is something that helped drag us all the way down here.
And I'm waking up. Never thought I'd have to do this. But here
I am again and the world's off half-a-notch, and I'm settling back
down with my coffee in one hand and a question in the other.
But it's fine. Because even if I don't catch up on all that's happened--even
if I lose the past with the rest of all that swampy mess back there--then
it doesn't change the present. And the future. Nothing I forgot
will keep me from remembering that I have my own function to be
here. Even if we never find an answer in why we exist or if we're
real, then we'll still reach the end of this together.
And we're going to have a hell of a closing party at the final
point tally, because we'll get to rent the tables en masse. I've
got the keys. Mary can be the designated. And the kids'll finally
have enough cake, and we'll go giggling home to sleep it off and
the spiritual tax collectors can find us when we're good and ready.
Check's in the mail, guys. The check is in the mail.