I repeat the same tired refrain. I’d still be doing this every day, no doubt, if I’d never found her. It makes me happy.
Two states of being: happiness brought on by anticipation of something wonderful, rancor created by anticipation of the end of a pleasure period’s peak.
Math makes me happy because it is utterly divorced from the messy world I thought I could make my own.
It makes me frustrated, because there are too many easy problems I can’t solve without a lot of hard thinking that I am still mistakenly convinced should be reserved for harder problems.
I am frustrated with my world, my community, myself.
The imperative for self improvement or self transformation seems to have died everywhere.
In my estimation, people who are tapped into anything that can fall under the category “pop culture” are obsessed with garbage that dumbs them down, and prevents them from seeking ways to make themselves and the world around them a better place.
If we aren’t being programmed by some master plan designed by nefarious groups in Washington, then we are most definitely working as a species to sabotage or at least devolve ourselves from the progress that got us to the moon and back.
The conspiracy theorist in me wants to believe that at some point during or right after World War II, scientists did discover ways to produce energy more cheaply and abundantly, but the secret was quickly locked away, and the goal of those in power became one of making sure that people never got any smarter with their understanding of the Universe past a 1942 moment of understanding physics, math and chemistry.
The so-called counterculture movements of the 60s and 70s were actually part of a program to ensure that everyone accepted reality in a happy, dumbed-down, Disneyfied sort of way. How else can you explain why millions of young people who were recently embracing jazz and classical music suddenly found it good enough to love bands who knew three chords and sang sappy, simple songs? And don’t forget the sex and drugs–the powers that be quickly saw how mushy young people’s brains turned if they were constantly seeking and receiving sex from each other. They experimented with introducing a handful of drugs into the general populace, and eventually realized that marijuana, along with the old standby booze, was the best way to keep a population controlled and happy. By keeping marijuana illegal, but mostly looking the other way, it became the drug of choice for any number of young people who otherwise might have looked to improving math, physics and chemistry discoveries to build bombs and vehicles powered by cheap, abundant energy. Rebellious youth with keen intelligence would have fostered a true revolution to overthrow the powers that be, but instead were kept on a steady diet of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll, and made to believe that these things were actually bucking the establishment. When, all the while, these things were tightening the noose on the general population’s ability to ever escape their Disney prison.