2004-03-20 | 4:07 a.m.
From certain points of view, I should be getting sleep. But this has proven unhelpful. Mainly because certain points of view are useless unless they're mine.

Sometimes it impresses me, and sometimes confuses me, and sometimes disappoints me just how much nonsense I can spout all at once. The words don't even have to make any sense, I just keep going anyway.

You see, this is why you don't name animals. When you name them, they become pets, and you get attached to pets. The same thing happens with planets, except it's not naming them you have to watch out for, it's immersing yourself in culture. The more you delve, the more attached you become, until it all starts to actually mean something. I mean, not that I plan to destroy this place or anything when I leave, but I do plan to leave, and I don't need any ridiculous attachments holding me here. I certainly don't need to place any especial important on something that isn't all that special at all. I have enough to deal with without that. As it is I'm having trouble ordering my commitments and associations and what not. Next thing you know, I'll be jumping the gun and screwing with things that actually do matter.

Fuck. It's not like I'm running out of time, per se. I mean, time is passing, sure, but I've got, literally, all the time in the universe. It's not my objective options that are being drawn away from me. It's a subjective attachment forming a sense of false identity which I feel a need to maintain/support despite the freedom to completely ignore it. After all, there's nothing that says it ever actually happened. It had no need to. Oh, certainly, there were some advantages to it, but there is a limit to everything. Perhaps this was all just a vision, a little extra knowledge to know what needs to be engineered.

And obviously my Talent for Qualification is as powerful as ever. Were I slightly more Xanthian, I would be a Magician, certainly. As it is, it's merely a matter of semantics, really, highly pedantic at least.

Still, one would think a Self of my caliber could derive some power from such a skill. Really, if you look at it seriously, you'll see that any sufficiently pronounced quality could be considered a Talent. But, as pleasing as it would be right now to even just be of the Talented, I have loftier...not goals, or aspirations..., not even destiny precisely. Just more, better, greater, certainty.

Of course, part of my problem is my utter lack of certainty. But that's for me, not for you to worry yourself about. Not that any of you could possibly settle my doubts one way or another.

The thing I wonder most is why I'm staying out of it.

Current Servant: Reality & Fantasy

2004-03-20 - Inarticulate complaining.
2004-03-18 - Hyperbole.
2004-03-18 - Rampant cuteness.
2004-03-06 - Violent head pain.
2004-03-06 - Freedom of marriage.

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