What would make me feel that my life is fulfilling, and that it is being lived the best way it can be lived? I seem to from time to time be endlessly dissatisfied with myself in some regard — so what would be satisfying?

I suppose if I were a Nobel Laureate, or the author of a bestseller, or both, whose name is on the lips of university students everywhere, and who came up with a world-changing, potentially humanitarian theory that gives rise to new fields of study, who has traveled everywhere and has lived happily into old age with the love of her life in a beautiful home, then, maybe I would be satisfied.

Problem: Disregarding most of the above, I would have to be really old before I could draw the conclusion. And then what good is it?

Problem: Does this imply that I’m only satisfied if I have all of the above?

Problem: Why isn’t pizza-for-a-year guy depressed because it seems like his entire existence boils down to that one year he won free pizza?

Apparently having a cold means you get to bombard your body with all sorts of random chemicals, because your body is just one massive experiment and hey, they’re over the counter drugs, so the lethal dose is enormously high and you couldn’t possibly do any damage anyway.

According to Professor Babby, sentences like “They gave the prize to my wife and myself” (rather than “to me”) are becoming more normative, and that the reflexive pronoun is being reanalyzed as the dative.

Which is nice and whatever, like how genders and most of the cases disappeared from English.

Am I the only person who thinks “They fed himself and his dog” confusing?

What if I’m the only person who is really oppressing myself?

Screw the fear crap. I don’t care. I have reliable people on my side. And I deserve it.

Also, most things are complicated.

You know what, this is stupid. Now that I’ve decided that I actually want to say what I think, I can’t because I’m terrified of being judged by narrow-minded people who might think that what I think isn’t kosher enough, and therefore I’m not kosher enough, etc. And hey, it’s all online, so it’s not so hard to prove I said a certain anything. I never thought I would be one of those people — and, in my mind, I don’t distinguish between categories, or reasons — who feel silenced by other people.

Maybe I should write this as a disclaimer: I don’t know anything, so you can’t blame me for willfully doing anything that you think is wrong.

Except, I don’t think I don’t know anything. I don’t think I know everything, but I also don’t think I should feel like I must say that I don’t know anything. I can’t believe I can’t even bring myself to say what it is that I’m talking about. But, if I can’t say anything, then I might as well not exist in the metaphysical sense of things. I think, as human beings, our words and actions are our essence. And moreover, I do live by personal principles, ones that are not religious in nature or in origin (as far as I know), and which operate on their own sphere. And I don’t think that’s heretical, and I don’t think it’s particularly relativist, and even if it were, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

EDIT: So now, whoever wants to can think that, clearly, the only reason I’m hiding anything is that I have something to hide, which I don’t. *rolls eyes* I don’t even know why I care so much what people think. I just (and rightly so, I think) happen to fear the power of ill-informed people in large groups. Which South Park has made a point to teach us.