Is it possible to rationally decide to be crazy? There was a time when I honestly thought I was crazy, which is to say I was convinced I was crazy (it helped that I had no discernible medical knowledge) and I remember being more content.
So if I wasn't crazy, but thought I was, and as a result was happy, then isn't it probable that I can decide to be crazy, and as a result be happy?
A lot of people reject reality.
Here's something I notice, I'm bored and I don't see any reason to not be bored. I feel like I could trick myself out of being bored, or distract myself from it, but it all feels forced and pointless (which is to say while bored I can't imagine not being bored, though I accept completely that I won't feel bored at some point in the future) which leads me to believe I have very little control over my life.
In a certain sense I do. I can choose to open a can of soda. I can choose to drive to Miami. I can choose to strip to the nude and bury myself in chocolate pudding (I have enough money to buy the pudding, I have a shovel in the shed, and I have no qualms about being nude). Point being, I have control over my actions.
But, I don't know if I have a similar control over my motivation. Meaning, I don't particularly want to strip to the nude and bury myself in chocolate pudding. I don't have an urge to change myself, which is annoying in that I'm not particularly enjoying my current self.
If I were in control of my motivation, I imagine I'd stop thinking about growing old, being a broken person, eventually not existing, being a burden to my family, being a disappointment to my friends and family, and dying without ever feeling a sense of accomplishment. If I were in control of my motivation I could focus on the fact that I am young, for the most part I'm a functional human being, I do exist, I have been a source of joy and inspiration (artistic, not spiritual... ewww) for my friends and family, and while it's debatable as to whether or not I've accomplished anything worthwhile at this point in my life, there's a considerably fair chance I'm going to find myself satisfied with something I've done (like that time I stuck it to that diminutive prick from the sports section... prick).
Were I crazy, I think I'd be able to ignore the apparent pointlessness. But, I wonder, would I be able to revel in the pointlessness? Could I be content lancing windmills that I knew to be windmills? I think that's what I want, but I'm not an absurd-hero. I've tried to embrace the idea, the way I'd embraced the idea of being a superhero when I was twelve (by twelve I mean 12-20) but to be completely honest I think the likelihood of me finding a lasting strength in meaninglessness of existence is not unlike the likelihood of me looking great in spandex (spandex first, flying second).
In a few hours I'm going to be flying to Houston. Hopefully a few days in Texas will be just what I need to brighten up my disposition.
*I hate that commercials at three in the morning are overwhelmingly concerned with selling me sleep medication. I get it, target audience and all... but seriously, salt in the wound.
**I'm noticing the commercials for Mike's Hard Lemonade stressing the "hardness" of their product. In and of themselves I enjoy the commercials, but it strikes me, no amount of clever wordplay is going to make me feel any less ostracized at family gatherings when I reach for "not a beer" and have nothing to say about baseball player's statistics. It is, of course, not my intention to praise the taste of Mike's Hard Lemonade, my point is just that the commercials either feel they've got the authority to deny reality (ie: the Bush administration) or feel they needn't reflect reality because people are desperate to believe they're just as manly as their beer drinking associates (which is, of course false... men drink beer... and build shit... and punch stuff)
