I'm lately favoring the philosophy of pre-destiny. Technically, all objects stay in motion until they meet another object and then the reaction will be determined by the characteristics of those two objects. Some might say that personality and choice are part of those characteristics but I'm in favor of mathematics like weight and hair color. Because of the slant angle of my nose a woman will be repelled or attracted to me and will approach or flee. And that sets in motion a series of chain reactions that I have no control over and will lead to my destiny.
I want someone to defend self-determination because I think it's a myth. We invent the concept of choice to give our ego praise or abuse for doing good or bad. But the outcome actually was predetermined a billion years ago.
Let us start at my recent painful constipation that led to an awful experience in the grocery store bathroom...caused by eating an entire box of WalMart molasses cookies (expired and discounted)...caused by my lack of insulin as my pancreas fails...caused by endemic corn sugar additive in BBQ sauce and soda and molasses cookies...caused by the advent of corn sugar as a surplus product of cultivated corn that was a staple of the first humanoids on north America who drifted like worn leaves from Alaska and hence from Europe and even further back in slanted forehead ages from African deserts and trees escaping lions as proto humans. The case is clear that I was destined to have my lower intestine packed with dough and soda pop, straining in agony to pass the ball of shit...it's clear to me.
We are just chemical reactions on track for our date with destiny. I accept a job or get fired or quit and then reflect that it's because I'm trying to alter my pre-destiny but then I think that no, I was predestined to quit. I am redundant and my life is already cemented in the history of geometry. I must only place my foots in the outlines that have already been drawn with faint chalk. There is no escape.
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3 comments:
So, my choice to drink a bunch of Bourbon, take some muscle relaxers, and the proceed to threaten and berate you was predestined because why? I chose to call you and tell you to buy the bourbon on your way to wellesley. I made the decision to take muscle relaxers.
It was his choice to do herion.
It was his choice to stick a glass flower vase up his ass cause he thought it would feel good until it got sucked up there and he couldn't get the vase out and now he has to live with a colostomy bag.
It is your choice to live in a van in the Texas in the summer, you could have gone to montana.
Choice, it is a nice cut of meat.
Choice, it is your decision to buy the cheap molasses cookies and malnourish yourself until your pancreas stops working. your choice could be to buy some dried beans and rice. you have a stove.
Rozi
Those examples are all reactions to something that was out of our control to begin with. We're chemical reactions like cells in a petri dish. Watch an ant pile and tell me they are making choices. The other day I had a box of early Halloween candy corn in my hand but decided not to buy it. But I'm thinking that no matter what I decided it was already predestined. The good decisions and the bad decisions are all going to be made exactly as they have to be made. I've tried to shake things up specifically to outsmart this predestiny gremlin. I could've gone to Montana but I felt that's what my destiny was leading me toward so I went south into the blazing heat specifically to DO THE THING THAT WOULD MAKE NO SENSE TO DESTINY. But now you're saying that it was my choice and I'm saying I was destined to make the choice that made no sense to destiny. And if I had gone to Montana that would've been a reaction to the climate...which is out of my control...so it is technically Destiny steering my van. I want to believe we determine the outcome of our lives but events have suggested it's all exactly as it must be and could never be any other way. I'm not 100% convinced but life is either totally haphazard...or it's predestined.
Here's a piece of my future you can help me determine:
I need to change the exhaust gaskets on my van so it will stop throbbing like a Harley low on gas. If I do this repair I'll be destined to lay on my back in a rocky library parking lot for 4 hours. If I don't do the repair them the outcome is a loud exhaust with fumes coming into the van. What should I do? My life depends on it.
...and you are an asshole for being my house guest and trying to fight me.
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