Wednesday, February 27

or dysfunctional nihilism

this is a bunch of small thoughts I've been collecting for a while. please, forgive the datedness and borrowedness of some of them and the existential generality of the others.
there is no shortage of tragedy in the world. perhaps this is because there is no end to our human ability to read our circumstances as deeply dramatic, emotional, and meaningful narrative. there is no shortage of tragedy at all. sometimes the tiniest things can dissolve away all the good things in your head, until it's hard to focus on anything but how little control you have over the way your life goes.

is it more depressing to think about how little control you have over the way anyone else's life goes?

for months and months I've wanted to blog something about this rather artistic video appeal concerning 'the leading cause of death in the world,' apparently, because... well, I guess because it seems clever. a clever and pathetic appeal to writers and journalists. and this kind of art and rhetoric intrigues me for some reason.

yesterday the grip of my own small tragic mood was loosened when I got out of bed and started cleaning my closet. a small thing. unimportant except in light of the fact that I'll be moving around the corner in a week or so, and need to put things in boxes and suitcases in preparation. anything, any mindless chore to distract us from the howling nothingness, eh?

I am totally up for wearing plaid with stripes. who cares anyway?

but we do. we care. we care about the silly details of what we wear every day and we care about the plight of illiterate children in Africa and lots of things in between. and we aren't exactly helpless puppets in the hands of fate, are we? I don't think so. there are things we can do. but do we? John Green provided me with the phrase 'functional nihilism' in this as-usual-enlightening video. we all wear a nihilist hat from time to time. but it isn't the only hat we can wear. we can get out of bed and do things. make stuff happen. change the world. in fact we can't really help changing the world. there is no running away. your breath, your apathy, your words, your footsteps. it's all here being mixed in with everyone else's.

are there reasons behind all this trite and inescapable no-man-is-an-island stuff? maybe. are they at all effable reasons? maybe not.

and this brings me to Ms. Rachel Botsman and her presentation on the the case for collaborative consumption. I can't remember where or when I came across this, nor am I certain exactly how it ought to connect with the above quote from Einstein or the Solidarit├ęs International video. maybe you all can help me out with that part.

a global village. trust mechanics. and this swap-trading stuff is the kind of thing my lovely, clever sister would get into and make awesomeness happen with, if she got half a chance.

maybe I'll read Botsman's book sometime. maybe I'll write one myself sometime...

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