I think that the angriest I ever get on a “normal” day to day basis would most likely be...
lol i should start posting….but i usually just like to follow people cuz their posts are more interesting than me writing a post.
Witold Gombrowicz, who is ready to declare in A Kind of Testament, with a relentless and amused honesty, that almost every form of self-expression -even our tears- reflects a calculation that approaches the artistic; in our sincerest moments, we make sure to control our postures with the precision of performers.
Nevertheless, every work of art possesses two faces. It is disinterested. It is composed of pure contemplation, but it is also the result of an ambition, a desire to be superior to others. The artist craves for approval. And even if he is disinterested and pure as a tear, this purity still contributes to the success of his work. It is the path to personal expansion!
No one likes to have their sincerity questioned or to be accused of scripting the ardent apotheoses of their lives; the spontaneous act -culturally and emotionally- is prized for its unimpeachable authenticity, yet the mind is fast enough that speed is no guarantor of truth. Everyone is always aware of how they look, even when they weep.
Gombrowicz wonders, however, what a self is if we accept that it is determined mostly or entirely by others and by culture:
…if I am always an artefact, always defined by others and by culture as well as by my own formal necessities, where should I look for my ‘self’? … I have found one answer: I don’t know who I really am, but I suffer when I am deformed. So at least I know what I am not. My ‘self’ is nothing but the will to be myself.
He calls this “a measly palliative! Another formula!” But it seems to get at something I perceive as essential, a power-politics behind every interaction, an explanation for otherwise senseless human behavior. It may merely be a reflection of my own perverted nature, but it often seems to me that our personalities are simply play-acting; our selves are adopted and discarded fiction fragments, assumed and abandoned opinions and tastes; and that even our more deeply-felt quarrels are really just rhetorical dross on top of something more basic: an infantile urge to be free from “deforming” pressures, which typically come from others.
We are, above all, the will to be freely ourselves, to be free from others and from cultural roles and demands. But without others and without culture, we vanish into ourselves, become a kind of nothing, cannot self-determine because the self we seek isn’t there. It is a nightmare of introspection: one discovers that deformity is form, and is perhaps the only form we can acquire.
Personality is neurosis; character stems from defect; one assumes form by deformation. That such assertions seem paradoxical assures us that they cannot be theoretical but are instead artistic, if I may use the term to describe my own lazy deliberations; Gombrowicz, for his part, prefers that territory anyway:
“Fortunately, you know that I am not a theoretician but an artist. The artist is not rational and consequential. He lets off steam. Everything happens at once in the artist, everything collaborates, theory with practice, thought with passion, life with evaluation and understanding of life, the desire for personal success with the requirements of the work in progress, the requirements of the work with universal truth, beauty, virtue. Nothing can hope to dominate the rest, everything is interdependent, as in every living organism… I create myself through my work. To start with, I shall fight, and then see what I am… Contradiction, which is the philosopher’s death, is the artist’s life. Let us repeat this: one can never emphasize it sufficiently: art is born out of contradiction.”
DAY 26 : My Week in Great Detail
Last friday: BARONA!!!
Sunday: basketball, study.
Tuesday: homework. study.
Wednesday: yay. webmaster. yay. and midnight ramen run.
Today: Midterm. fail. and going to program crap out of my ass for the duration of the day.
DAY 25: My Day In Great Detail
Didn’t hear my alarm go off at 8:15. Woke up at 9:10. Realized it wasn’t worth it to rush through my morning routine to get to class, so kept sleeping until 9:45. Showered (aahhh refreshing). Ate my usual cereal breakfast. Got to class at 11. Turned in homework. Sat down, and then realized that I forgot to take my morning dose of coffee before I left. Thus, I proceeded to pass out for the entirety of the class. Went home. Finished latest episode of Big Bang Theory (not as funny as the latest episode of HIMYM). Napped (aahhh refreshing). Ate a burrito from Goody’s while catching up with FMA. Studied physics with Vivian at PC. Tried the new Whiplash burger at BK (not very good). Went to physics class. Then went to Warren to rot in the CSE basement from 8:30-11. And now I’m going to finish studying for my physics quiz which is tomorrow. Working my ass off, all in anticipation for the end of the week…SUN GOD.