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Aug. 20th, 2002 10:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quislibetSo many melancholy people today. Hey, I hear ya. I could get sucked into that; I could write, for instance, about how too often it seems that only inertia rather than any real personal interest keeps me on my current so-called career path, as if there were even the potential of a real job at the end of it; this comes up practically whenever I must spend the day focused on my dissertation work.
Fortunately for me, though, I have the stark terror of an impending two-hour-long driving lesson to divert attention away from such matters, unless I want to take the opportunity to turn that attention to the fact that I'm this old and only now learning to drive.
Or, conversely, I can see it from the perspective that in this respect, at least, I am taking positive steps to fix something deficient in myself. Hmm.
But, mostly, it's just the terror, so we'll leave it at that for now.
I read one of these melancholy journal entries to a vaguely appropriate industrial soundtrack; some band or other repeating the words, "my life is a triumph of my will." (One of the problems with my industrial music collection is that it is almost entirely in compilations, so that I never really pay attention to who performs what, thus undermining my original impetus for compilation-collecting; but I digress.) I want to say, good for you, then, Mr. Anonymous-through-my-Inattentiveness-Industrial-Guy, even if "triumph of my will" sounds too much like yet another person has read enough Nietzsche so that they feel -- falsely -- wise and interesting.(*) (I had occasion yesterday, while reading my fantasy novel with the embarrassing cover(**), to regret that the man ever said that thing about stuff not killing us making us stronger; the by-now almost equally cliché counterpoint that what doesn't kill you could also leave you a gibbering, crippled wreck seems not to have made much headway except as humor; but here I go with another digression.)
Anyway. Will-triumphing. It could work, I think. If we only had the willpower to overcome the inertia that keeps us from no longer being the person we don't want to be.
I suppose that should technically be "persons," but that just sounds weird, like I'm talking about multiple-personality disorder.
I have two hours until my two-hour driving lesson. So far, at least, my driving practice hasn't killed me. So maybe it will actually make me stronger.
Goddammit! How annoying is that!
-----
(*) I should point out that I have read practically no Nietzsche whatsoever, so that was not from the point of view of one looking down on poor fools who misunderstand what I understand, but rather of one looking down on poor fools whose understanding of philosophy is, one suspects from a certain cynicism, although not Cynicism, merely superficial and trendy.
(**)And embarrassing subject matter: race-car drivin' elves save troubled children. But it's a fun read, once.
Fortunately for me, though, I have the stark terror of an impending two-hour-long driving lesson to divert attention away from such matters, unless I want to take the opportunity to turn that attention to the fact that I'm this old and only now learning to drive.
Or, conversely, I can see it from the perspective that in this respect, at least, I am taking positive steps to fix something deficient in myself. Hmm.
But, mostly, it's just the terror, so we'll leave it at that for now.
I read one of these melancholy journal entries to a vaguely appropriate industrial soundtrack; some band or other repeating the words, "my life is a triumph of my will." (One of the problems with my industrial music collection is that it is almost entirely in compilations, so that I never really pay attention to who performs what, thus undermining my original impetus for compilation-collecting; but I digress.) I want to say, good for you, then, Mr. Anonymous-through-my-Inattentiveness-Industrial-Guy, even if "triumph of my will" sounds too much like yet another person has read enough Nietzsche so that they feel -- falsely -- wise and interesting.(*) (I had occasion yesterday, while reading my fantasy novel with the embarrassing cover(**), to regret that the man ever said that thing about stuff not killing us making us stronger; the by-now almost equally cliché counterpoint that what doesn't kill you could also leave you a gibbering, crippled wreck seems not to have made much headway except as humor; but here I go with another digression.)
Anyway. Will-triumphing. It could work, I think. If we only had the willpower to overcome the inertia that keeps us from no longer being the person we don't want to be.
I suppose that should technically be "persons," but that just sounds weird, like I'm talking about multiple-personality disorder.
I have two hours until my two-hour driving lesson. So far, at least, my driving practice hasn't killed me. So maybe it will actually make me stronger.
Goddammit! How annoying is that!
-----
(*) I should point out that I have read practically no Nietzsche whatsoever, so that was not from the point of view of one looking down on poor fools who misunderstand what I understand, but rather of one looking down on poor fools whose understanding of philosophy is, one suspects from a certain cynicism, although not Cynicism, merely superficial and trendy.
(**)And embarrassing subject matter: race-car drivin' elves save troubled children. But it's a fun read, once.
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Date: 2002-08-20 12:31 pm (UTC)There is risk in all things.