JUST DID IT.

Dear Facebook, and the users of Facebook on my list of friends.

It isn’t you, its me. The cliché break-up line used by the latter will soon turn into a paradox. My current cognitive state has found itself vexed by the realized cons, noticed in perspective when pondering the website’s historical significance in our current age and the manner in which it molds the future to its own decree, of the website’s manufactured disposition and the manner in which it allows for an irregulated and infinite amount of self-resolving sentiments effortlessly and emotionally ejected by various people I have known. It is not the meaning or importance, or lack thereof, of these expressive notions expressed that leave me with limited care or fascination. Instead, it’s the consistency, longevity, and unresolving existence being carried out by depictions of life on the internet. There is little enough resolving going on or benefit from my cooperation with this worldwide twent-first-century protest against a course of living less involved with computerized and calculated happiness. There is little enough potency of genial spirit that my seeking mental agents have been able to discover, disabling my ability to remember instances of progress or change associated with the participation in these very imposing internet affairs. Blindly, we use our means to their fullest extent and do not realize the declines being made by enriching a satellite-directed world. I imagine an existence of an opposing theory and individuals that would carry out contrasting contentions but the accumulated and comprehensive substance buried in my thoughts that influence this decision may have attracted enough reason so that my opinion may not be altered. I only do this as a means of permanately rehabilitating my sense of time value—as a result, time usage as well—and life cherishment. The value I hold for this existence has classified the religious utilization of this website as a degradation. All that in account, I have resorted to a decision that consists of my thoughtful (and permanant) departure from the world of virtual friendship. The virtual friendships are degrading everything that is real. I am choosing to strictly take part in the natural world of friendship and communication, not the form that is advertised for everyone including corporations and government powers.

wafflesovrbitches:

Epic Concept of the Day.

Brought to you by the brilliant poetry of William Wordsworth:

from “Ode,” the beginning of the fifth stanza:

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, (the sun)

Has had elsewhere its setting,

and comes from afar:

Not in entire forgetfulness,

and not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home:

Heaven lies about us in our infancy!

My interpretation: our souls enter this physical realm, here on earth, where we pilot in the form of animal. But just as the sun is born everyday to give us life, and comes from “afar,” our souls too are manifested here from other dimensions…perhaps from “God, who is our home…”

Amazing.

Try posting some philospohic conclusion you’ve perceived to be indefinitely true of life and our relationship to the natural world we imagine in after reading some Wordsworth or Coleridge. You’ll most likely find what you’ve posted in the near past laughable and be in complete disagreement with the previous inconsistent sense of intellectual entitlement you had in regards to knowledge and philosophy. Challenge Coleridge and Wordsworth (Wordsworth seems to be more rewarding in his understanding of man and his natural world) and I will bet that they will open up doors which you probably already had slightly open.