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Maybe I'm a philosopher
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My reverse image search didn't find the source, and the tweeter didn't give one
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I’m winding down with work for the year and with the lull comes the tide. A tide of emotions, a tide of exhaustion, a tide of inspiration, a tide of intention. I just googled "with the lull comes the tide" and learned that the idiom I was thinking of is "the lull before the storm", and my broken synapse that led to "with the lull comes the tide" invented a phrase.
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Writers invent phrases, I guess, so I really shouldn't be surprised when I do the same. I am, however, genuinely surprised at the words that spill onto my pages. Especially because the inside voices like to remind me that everything worth doing has been done and that my voice isn't anything special. I tell myself to STFU all the time, it's why I find it so difficult to take the writing thing "seriously". In time, perhaps. Or rather some times. Last time, I took this seriously. Hm.
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There's been a lot of corporate (and individual) navel gazing during the pandemic. Instead of just staring down the barrel of their own existence, folks have started vomiting verbal forays into the philosophical and existential. The phrase "locus of control" has popped up several times as of late. Paired with some victim mentality and crafty narratives to make untruths more palatable, the decision to pout and scream (and not wear a f(&#ing mask) in the current predicament proves that many are unable to realize the power that they have.
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After last week's newsletter, a friend sent a note of solidarity on my feelings of the Stupid. I proposed to him that maybe the Stupid is the external and the Nonsense is the internal struggle we go through in reacting to the stupid. I've not, actually, thought deeply about this. I'm reading a biography of Simone de Beauvoir* at the moment, and she worked her entire life to rectify the discrepancy between the inner self and the self put on display. I do the same.
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* If the only thing your mind tells you about Beauvoir is "oh yeah, the feminist", I'd recommend getting yourself a copy of "Becoming Beauvoir". She wasn't a feminist, she was a philosopher, and reading her biography is giving me all sorts of delusions of (potential) grandeur. Her brain seemed to function a lot like mine...does that sound arrogant? Comparing my brain to a legendary philosopher? Am I allowed to think that out loud? Perhaps I should frame it more like I'm inspired by her life.
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Once someone told me I'm not special for having my emotions, everyone has them. I thought that was interesting because AFAIK no one has them like I have them. You see, your grief isn't the same colour as mine. It's not more or less, just different. Our intensely unique collection of experiences spider web inside our brains and those little webs of neurons create all sorts of differing perspectives. Also, I'm neuro-atypical. I've got some broken stuff in there and broken bits do make us special. Everyone is broken in their own special way.
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Maybe I'm bemazed
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I'd like to applaud whomever advised Trump to pardon Susan B. Anthony, it doesn't at all reek of irony and cynicism. And I'm not at all being cynical when I introduce you all to the most Berlin group of people I've ever seen in my life. The world is...bewildering, funny, sad, so full of haptics. I wrote a lot already, so here is a list of links to push your mind in all the different directions
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Maybe I need help?
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I probably won't be in your inbox for a couple weeks, as it's the time of year when I find justification for not pushing myself. I'd love to hear from you though, if you're feeling communicative. I hope you're ok out there. Things have been rough, so if you want to reach out, need an ear, a correspondence, I'm here. Just hit reply and tell me what's on your mind.
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Now, I'll leave you with some rap because, hey, it's the holidays.
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