What the fuck is the point?

The man who cannot wonder, who does habitually wonder, were he president of innumerable Royal Societies and carried…the epitome of all the laboratories & observatories, with their results in a single head, is a pair of spectacles behind which there’s no eye. The conflict is like Open Source vs. Proprietary Software. The dying voracity for more and an uncanny need for security, an endless abyss with no terminus.

On the red corner is the soothing taste of freedom, a cacophony of moans and hypocrisy, “Exploration” and on blue corner of the ring we have a reigning champion of the good old days, the epitome of efficacious, the boring quixotic shithole, “Commitment”.

Asshole vs Dickface

The beautiful feeling of being accepted to a tribe and forgetting that you are not alone after all, for that moment seems like a perfect place to be at. Where everyone is contributing, and you feel loved and all. But at some point, maybe you could have realized it too that the more we get connected to the people, the more we feel isolated.

The best example is today’s Elysium, Social media. We have around, I don’t know, a 1000 people on our friend list, half of those are whom we envy. We’re all ready to jump down that barricade of falseness and blow a kiss goodbye for embracing the truth but, we kindda fear that.

The concept of solitude kind of dies, because once you are a part of a crowd, you don’t really feel yourself. And when you are not really with yourself, the solitude you feel is fake, it is the other person inside yourself whom you are sobbing with, a fake ass who changes with every interaction you have with people.

Die alone

In a large group there’s no you, we become mere speck of that bunch, which will be partying the next night of your funeral, shouting “the show must go on”.

The whole day seems so beautiful. One person goes away, and you think, “Oh, okay, let’s find a new one. Who cares?” But you don’t realize that you are creating modules, more and more. It gets easier the more modules you create, the less code you write, and the less you worry about the stuff underneath the hood, but boy, you get stuck on a treadmill.

With the module cluster, you move far away from the hardware, so far that hardware starts to look like some horrifying terrible thing that is for delusional people. And what you don’t come in terms with is the veracity, which makes you weak, fragile and non resilient piece of crap which is slow as fuck and just there for convenience.

For you may wander around reanimated and pandas, you will have to come back to pointers, to know why your 5 lines of project functions in a way it functions.

But there is a secure place, same old shit, the same boring prick, which bombards us with a tranquil sense of entitlement and neediness. The one person you accept everything from, the jealousy that comes when the “Dare you speak with that bitch again” protocol is ran over, that is what an old man gives you.

Think about civil servants, 9–4 for the rest of their lives. And do you realize how pissed off they are, my good lord. They are the biggest bunch of nerds who are desperately dying within their self-made boundaries.

The memory leaks you have from time to time, the inability if yours to rise to a level where high-level stuff is done, where the gratification and dopamine of design is persistent, you miss that well.

Waking up every day and starting your day with the main function kinda makes you throw out. You start messing up with hardware, you start getting pissed off that this is the only thing you can pull off nicely, but still are unable to prevent occasional failures and leakages.

You become desperate, the growing imprisonment of the motherboard gets into your head and starts controlling you. The only place you get orgasm from is the pointer and if the memory is messed up, you start putting fingers in the switches, opening up your computers, and just end up exposing your beautiful piece of Techno to the cruel technicians of the world.

After 700 words of crap, where are we then? Do we go with the YOLO fantasy or should we follow the good old day stereotype or should we just stay feeling nostalgic like my gym membership? As always, I am just here to fill the void that I have, to pretend to have a fake conversation, so that I can feel life.

But here’s a thing, the question we are asking ourselves is wrong. Nothing is right or wrong in and of itself. We need to accept the fact that nobody knows what life has for us, maybe the people you cling onto today might not be there tomorrow, the group you make plans with might have other plans.

Who knows, the very frontend you find boring today might earn you millions in the future and the Rust you are afraid to learn might open up the doors which you never thought existed.

So are we supposed to explore until something worthy of commitment comes around, or maybe commit to a thing and make it worthy? It’s just a part of useless thinking though, the fear of uncertainty, the fear of abandonment and the quest for survival, it is what this shit is all about.

But then what do we mean by “worthy”? Is it a need for perfection or a sense of wholeness in something? Is that even possible? Milan Kundera in “The Unbearable Lightness of Being”, puts it quite perfectly: there are two types of womanizers in the world, i) who are in search of a perfect woman, and ii) who think everyone they meet is perfect. I hope this clarifies my point.

Look, observe, think. What are we doing? Are we exploring things out of sheer curiosity, or just pursuing a blind search for perfection, what is it? Why do you think my dear friend, are we trying so hard to explore? What the fuck is it, motherfucker?

Plato in his Symposium posed that humans were growing to be too powerful and challenging to be ruled by gods. They would rise to be equals of God and challenge this divine entity. So to control that, God made human beings to search and waste their half of the life in finding their other half that would make them feel powerful again.

That other half doesn’t have to be a prince on a unicorn, it could be anything. It’s the quest for the other half that is posing this question in the first place. Ahh it’s a bitchy situation, won’t let you explore, won’t let you commit.

Let’s end it with Bukowski like it should have. The fuckers, There I feel better. God-damned human race. There, I feel better.