As you know, I have a real problem about control, which gives me an intense foreboding of altered states. The reason I am wary of the works of religion and government is that I believe that man alone is master of his own domain. Not surprisingly, I avoid alcohol and mind-altering drugs for the same reason. For more than my own well-being, I shun the altered state because I find it difficult to deal with a man whose mind is not rightly his own. But there is one altered state which non of us can avoid, no matter the measures we take to stay pure of body and mind, and that is the state of sleep. I don't care for dreams, especially good ones. My idea that life as we know it is our most critical charge has bled over to my crusade against religion, but it started with dreams. Like a siren song, our finest dreams draw us away from real life and brings us to despise reality. I, however, am of the belief that life, real life, is nothing short of perfection. Everything that exists does so because it has to be the way it is, functional biology shows us that; therefore it is this reality in which we must not only be satisfied, but fulfilled. To waste away your life dreaming of what you wish you had is an insult to existence. But we knew this much. There's another reason I bring it up besides to tell you what you know.
I have recently come into (and passed out of without incident), a place where I felt what I believe to be the way Christians must feel all the time. So let me tell you how I think it would feel to be a Christian for a week or two, and why I could never do it for real. It is very rare that I do not wholly enjoy every moment of my life, which is why I have never been tempted with drugs or religion. I live quite deliberately and relish in the consequences of every choice I make, whatever they may be, for what is life but the experience of all it has to offer? Indeed there is a fine line between self control and self-abuse, but I'd still rather take it all in stride, and truly live it, than tune it out with Voodoo and Tylenol. But back to what I was saying. I was living in a strange world where my dreams were more enjoyable than my waking hours (they still quite resembled reality, as they always have; I've rarely had fantastic dreams), and I began to think about being somewhere else, being someone else, even. What kept me here was the knowledge of what I knew was to come. I knew I would be going home soon, if I just let the time pass me. I hate the idea of not thinking I am where I'm supposed to be, that there is some distant, perfect place for me I cannot yet reach, just like I hate the thought of good dreams that make real life seem less, or a faith that promises something better once you're done here, or drugs that ease what's supposedly pain. What gets me through the day is not the promise of tomorrow. There is no pain, there is no paradise awaiting; there is only life. Paradise is only found in living every ounce of life, and pain is just wasting away at the prospect of wasting not being where you are. Once I remembered this, I came back to my senses and my strength, and I don't know how Christians go through their lives with their heaven hanging over them, sucking all the joy out of life. My heaven is here on Earth, a thing for us all to work towards, that we may all it enjoy here and now.
In other news, the problem with the riot board is on their end. It happens sometimes, usually works itself out it a couple days, so I don't know what's up with it this time. Frankly I'm not worried about it since the thing never really does anybody any good anyway.
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