robosagogo

It's become hard to imagine the possibility that things were ever any different than they are now. The better moments of my past seem just as much like fantasies as anything I could conjure up on an idle afternoon, or whenever. Am I romanticizing the mundane or have I just fallen into such a rut that I can barely fathom even the most common occurance of joy taking place within the boundaries of our reality?

Ha ha. Dramatic of me.

I did possess the smallest feeling of smug self-satisfaction today. I was on a bit of a pseudo-intellectual kick, rattling on about this and that and such and much. It was kind of nice. Arrogance really is the vice I envy the most.

I <3 Huckabees was good. I've been wrong, but I think it was good. I'm also going to spell it "rong" now. I realize there's a scarcity of "w" words out there, but we can't just throw the letter in front of every little thing. God sponsors moderation.

Speaking of moderation, my sentences are always so achingly complex. My attempts at simplification remove everything but the very plainest elements, and that's hardly better.

I've spent the past month or so wondering if I'm in love. I really don't think it's the sort of question I can answer now, restricted as I am by a lack of freedom to act to the extents that my emotions would seem to demand (and how far that would take me would be a good indication, wouldn't it?) and the absence of the sort of clarity that viewing matters in retrospect always seems to afford me.

I also wonder if I am unable to engage in action without being an actor.

I really am mostly water? Wow.

Does anyone not worry about free will? If so, how? How can you not worry about whether or not you have free will?