Duct tape

I need duct tape. Lots of it. Tons. My god it hurts.

Am I a fucking emo?

I was reading my other posts (from roughly 4 months ago) and good god do I appear like a fucking emo of some sort. But then again, practically no one reads what I write anyway. (and, no, I'm not complaining - it's just a fact)

 Also, I've learned something new about myself. I adore nipples. More precicely, female nipples - not quite sure about male ones... Though, I'm not aware of any design differences between the two.
 
Either way, they're quite nice to feel. Kind of hard and soft at the same time. Quite amazing. I really need to buy some whipped cream to enhance the experience. (mmm, cream... there's another thing I enjoy. Maybe with a bit of chocolate ice cream and a that small tube thing they stick in it. Though that'd make the woman all sticky - would take hours to lick it all off of her.) 

But back to my self-conscious worries about being an emo.

However, when I analyse what I wrote and compare it to the idea that was im my head at the time, I arrive at the conclusion that I'm not in fact an emo at all - I only appear emo, since I'm trying to hide my true emotional state behind a dumb story or some sort of pseudo-wisdom. I only appear an emo, since I can't really hide how I feel; even in text form! It permeates what I write, how I write as well as what I say and how I say it.

So in the interest of not looking pathetic, I'll take the effort of writing how I truly feel. That should eliminate that roundaboutness (is that a word?) that makes my posts seem emo.

Yes. Being more direct is what I need. I mean, having your heart being made into minced meat feels... exactly how you might imagine. But I'm an engineer. And, as an engineer, I know, deep down in my soul (soul = emergent property of a neural net of 100 billion neurons) that there's nothing in this universe that can't be fixed with enough duct tape and WD-40.

Hope.

Sense of self-worth

Where does one derive a sense of self-worth?

That responsibility used to rest in the hands of the religions. There was some consolation in believing that we possess some inate value, given to us by this or that god.

But people don't buy those stories anymore. We have been freed from the shackles of religion by our intellects and now we are free to do anything. Anything. There is no longer an objective system of value to give us guidance, something to compare and measure ourselves with. 

We have to make one of our own. A terrifing prospect. One which requires mental effort and self-reflection. But the benefits are much more worth than the effort required.

But there is a shortcut - a shortcut that many people fall victim to. And virtuous people too, which have a lot to offer and are onto themselves valuable.

So what is this dreaded shortcut I'm talking about? What could be so corrosive to ones character and define ones interactions with others? What belief must one hold?

The belief that one's worth is measured by other people - the more other people like you, the more you're worth. 

"What's wrong with being liked?" - you may ask. Well, nothing really. Being liked or disliked is a useful guideline. But it is only that, a guideline.

When you're letting other people define your sense of self-worth, you are basically saying that you're worthless. Think about it; if those people would go away,where would you get that affirmation and validation? And that sense of worthlessness is going to influence the way you talk, move, react and your whole character - and people will pick up on it. They will sense from interacting with you, sooner or later, that you are in essence a sad, pitiful human being.

What then is the solution to this problem of unlimited freedom? 

You, dear reader, have to take control of your life. With ability comes responsibility, but worry not, because you only need answer to yourself. Take the guidelines from other people, evaluate their criticism, and take it to heart if it is sincere. Other people don't define you. You don't need them. Only what you think of yourself is what's important.

What the hell is this stuff?

Man do I like blowjobs. Receiving them, not giving.

Anyway, I just ate some cremeschnitte, and good god was it bad. The "creme" part was like styrofoam or something. I'm telling ya, it's insane. It kept its shape you could practically use this stuff for thermal insulation. Just look at it for heaven's sake:

See how it's keeping its shape perfectly? No, that's not good. It's supposed to fall apart and be all creamy and mushy and all that goodness.

Seriously, it's all the fault of the styrofoam-industrial complex. They're in charge, no kiddin'.

Well, call me a tinfoil hat guy, but I think they took over all the cake companies and are planning something. Something big. I don't know what yet, but I'm sure as hell no good's gonna come out of it. Honest.

Who am I anyway?

Flaws. I have them. And so do you. Probably. So what are my flaws? To understand that, I need to look at my objectives and goals and how badly I'm failing. (not too badly, I'd like to think)

I was never a good student. I'm still pretty bad. Actually, I would say I'm the worst student at my university. Not the worst chemist though - I'm quite good at it in fact, and my peers and other students seem to agree with me. But a terrible terrible student.

So why is that? Who do I blame, how do I sleep at night?

The education system.

"Well, that's a bit arrogant." you may think. Who am I to say that the education system is at fault for my bad academic success? How dare I say something like that? All those professors are wrong?

Yes.

Argumentum ab auctoritate.

Fuck them. They know jack shit about education.

You see, you can be a great scientist - doing your science in a lab, contributing to the world and all that but that doesn't mean you're a great teacher. It certainly doesn't mean that the way the system is structured is good for doing what it was supposed to do - distribute knowledge; educate.

And then there's the problem of different people learning differently. Not to mention the IQ of the individual person and the Gaussian distribution and all that jazz.

For crap's sake people this is basic stuff: division of labor! I shouldn't be required to explain this. And you know what, I wont. I'll just leave a wikipedia link - do your own research:

Division of labour

Let the educators educate, and the scientists scinetisticate. wait, what?

Poetry

Another hour gained tonight

Another hour gained to write

Time within which to contemplate

Why does this clock my life arbitrate?

Are we unique snowflakes? Well, yes. But we're also physical beings, governed by physical laws.

If we could observe and replicate all that happens in a human being, and specifically in its brain, we could, theoretically, replicate it. The creativity, the emotions, the passions. Everything.

Some time in the future, we'll be able to make synthetic life forms ("what is alive" arguments aside) that will surpass us in every conceivable way. They will be stronger than us, smarter than us, more creative than we could ever be. They could possibly be more compassionate than we ever were. They could even love more deeply than us.

Are we just a stepping stone in an evolution that we can't really comprehend? An evolution that goes beyond genes as units of selection?

Could it be that we are too smart for our own good? Just like life was created from simple chemicals (probably, I think), could we be the "chemicals" for a new breed of life? Something we cannot even begin to imagine.

Remember, we evolved from simple life forms. Very simple in fact. (the biochemist in me is shaking his head)

And our brains are a product of natural selection - more likely a side-product. When we reach that point, when we create an AI that can improve itself, we will have opened a box, and from it will come things which we won't be able to predict, or control.

It may destroy us,
it may show compassion to its flawed creators.
It may ignore us,
as we ignore an anthill.

For once, I'm not sure I want us to succeed.

Slaves to our own intellect, doomed to destroy ourselves.

Message in a bottle

A chilling truth has dawned upon my mind. I am alone. I was always alone, and I will always be alone. I will die alone. And so will everyone else.

There is no way to share experiences between people. Art? No. It's not nearly direct enough. No way to share an idea fully, to share an emotion with someone and the whole state of your mind.

We are doomed to forever be alone by our very nature.

No man's an island? Fucking bullshit. 

So what do you do when you come to this devastating realization? What can you possibly do? 

Send messages.

We have to get good at sending messages. It's the only thing that survives. Chopin is still alive in a sense through his art, through his messages.

I guess that's the reason's I'm writing this blog in the first place.

Walked out this morning I don't believe what I saw
A hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
Seems I'm not alone in being alone 
A hundred billion castaways looking for a home