I love this song.

I know I've quoted that lyric before, so maybe it's like a broken record around here, but I just love it. And this is my web site, so "neener neener."

I am my own worst enemy. Never do the truth of these words become more clear than the times when I attempt to transcend my own self-created limitations and inhibitions. A walking contradiction, I want things both ways. The impossible. Polar opposites which cannot coexist. Or can they?

I speak in abstract vagaries, which probably doesn't lend much illumination to the confused reader. Perhaps a concrete example would help.

This morning, after I came into work, someone (who will not be named, even with silly letter codes) asked how my weekend had been. I contemplated how to respond. An unusual weekend for certain, but did I want to elaborate?

I am generally a fairly private person, keeping my thoughts and activities mostly to myself. (I should clarify by saying that in meatspace, I am a private and reserved person, especially at work. Obviously, a large portion of my private life is an open book to anyone who feels like pouring through these writings.)

I decided to go with the generic, non-committal answer. "Pretty good." A mild grin on my face may have betrayed that there was more than these generic words alone reflected. I don't know.

He gave me a quizzical look. "Why only 'pretty good'?"

I pondered for a moment, trying to decided whether to evade further with more mindless nothingness (which would be my typical pattern most of the time), or actually say something real. To say something stupid, or say something true? How about something stupidly true?

Maybe it was sleep deprivation. Maybe there were still active traces of alcohol swimming around in my blood. Or maybe it was just one of those I don't give a fuck anymore moments.

Semblences of a straight face departing, I couldn't help but smile, but I did the closest thing to a deadpan under the circumstances. Why had my weekend only been pretty good? It was a worthy question, and deserved a worthy answer. "Didn't get laid."

That caught him off guard. He laughed for a moment, and I joined. "Not the answer I was expecting."

Well, so be it. A nervous nod. It could have been an awkward moment, but we moved on to another topic. (Though I'm not exactly forthcoming about my private life, it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to guess that it has been many, many, many weekends since the last time this geek got laid, if ever. But the very fact that I said something in reference was... well... just slightly freaky, and perhaps a bit ironic.) The inquiry did not go any further.

[Bitscape grins devilishly.]

Now, how is this little tale illustrative of the abstract mumblings which preceeded it? Just this:

In my vision of my "ideal self", I would go about my life in "not giving a fuck" mode all the time. I wouldn't care whether people think I was a freak. I would say shit if I wanted to say shit in the most extreme, off the wall way, community approval be damned. (Anton LaVey would refer to this as the "Demonic self", which lies beneath the surface, but seldom finds its way to the light of day, and is inevitably overriden by the Familiar inner core during most day-to-day life. Trapped between the deepest inner self, and the public persona, the Demonic in every person yearns to be freed, but cannot get out because of its very nature.)

A few minutes after my little out-of-character utterance, I reflected back and thought to myself, "Did I really say that? How utterly stupid. It was what popped into my mind, It worked, and maybe it was even true. But did I really need to make a fool of myself by saying it?" The core self reasserts dominance, thwarting the temporary upsurgance of the Demonic; the part of myself which I treasure so dearly.

Ok, pause time. I really didn't intend for this to turn into a lesson on Satanic theory. It just sort of happened, because it just sort of struck me as being applicable here. Sorry if I'm freaking out any of the good little Adventist souls who might happen to be reading this. Now I'm really wandering offtopic. As if there was ever a set topic in the first place.

[Bitscape hangs out on mass irc.]

The "let's worship the music of Trent Reznor" club is now convening in virtual space...

...

I think this rambling has run its natural course. I'll leave the other pseudo-philosophical babblings for another time.