It's January 2nd, 2023; I'm sitting at my dining table, heart pounding, pen and notebook on my right, phone playing "Desires' by Half Asleep Games1 on repeat to my left, and my trusty notion dashboard in front of me. "Why is his heart pounding?" asks the Stephen-Fry-narrating-The Hitchhiker's-Guide-to-the-Galaxy-movie-inspired voice my thoughts like to take on when speaking to myself in the third person. Internally, I reply, "It's because, good sir, I'm finally sitting down to write!”
The Courage (or Fear) to Write
You see, one of my goals for 2022 was to begin writing publicly. It was a goal in 2021 and 2020, yet here we are; it's 2023! Reading the Bluprint in 2020 was my original inspiration, followed quickly by the likes of The Observer Effect, The Generalist, The Pragmatic Engineer, and Lee Robinson's blog. Mostly techy stuff. Nevertheless, what must it be like to convey your thoughts so articulately? I had no desire to be some famous blogger with an "expert opinion" or a famous novelist selling books (although writing a book someday like my dear friend's "Try, Catch" would be so much fun); I wanted to express myself. But choosing what to write about can be a pain, and not-to-mention, I already struggled to convey my thoughts daily.
We've all more-than-likely heard Mark Twain's "Write what you know" quote in some form of pop culture. I initially thought something along the lines of "Oh ezpz, I know plenty of things!" - quickly followed by an "…Or do I?" I thought it would be fun to start a "Tricking" blog, so I initiated an article explaining the art/sport that has been sitting in my Medium drafts for over two years now 😬 But I got plagued with the infamous "writer's block." I questioned myself. I wondered how well I knew this community I claim to be an expert on. After all, I'm an event host, a frequent gathering attendee, and even an "OG," as I was painfully made aware of by a pair of less-than-20-year-olds at a gathering. But I found contradictions and oversimplifications in each paragraph I wrote and rewrote, furthering my self-doubt. It wasn't until I wrote this previous sentence that I understood what I was doing wrong. I was writing for some fictional audience in my head to try to educate and please. I wasn't writing for myself, my understanding, for my enjoyment.
And so, like many random goals or ideas that pop into my brain, "Write an Article" was relegated to the ToDo column in my notion dashboard. Occasionally rewritten or replaced by the likes of "Create a blog for Vertigo," "Write an article for UST," and even "Write the short story idea about the early morning rain," as well as countless other todos and nicknacks like "Read X," "Play Y," "commit Z to A repository," "plan B for C," "learn D," and on and on until X is returned to and we must resort to the Greek alphabet for variables. My aim now is to do the reverse; write for myself first. If you, the reader, happen to learn something or enjoy my musings, fantastic!
Being and Becoming (Bibliophilic)
“What to do if you find yourself stuck with no hope of rescue: Consider yourself lucky that life has been good to you so far.” - The Book, played by Stephen Fry, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (2004).
The one task I can say I've gotten consistent with crossing off over the years is reading.* According to my personal reading DB, I read 27 books in 2021 and 572 in 2022, and even though it's only January 2nd, I'm on track to bump 2023's count from 0 to 1 in a few hours. This makes me happy, and I'll continue putting XP into my bookworm skill tree ad infinitum. I have procrastinated, trying to read enough of others' voices to find my own, but deep down, I've known that I still want to write. The easiest way for me to get started was journaling, and in a way, this piece you are reading is just another stream-of-consciousness entry in my notebook, but just a tad more curated, edited, and purposeful...maybe?
export default const readBook = (Book b) => {
try {
b.beginReading();
while (b.hasNextPage()) {
b.readNextPage();
const currentPage = b.getCurrentPage();
if (isInteresting(currentPage)) {
annotate(currentPage);
} else if (bored()) {
throw new UnmotivatedReadingException(b.title);
}
}
b.closeBook();
ReadingDB.logBook(b, 'completed');
} catch (UnmotivatedReadingException e) {
ReadingDB.logBook(e, 'In progress');
throw new Error(`I will finish ${e} later`);
}
}
Reading and listening to audiobooks, I took notes and annotated as if I were again in high school English class. It's so much more fun than I remember. Oh, the wonders of doing something intrinsically. Though, there was an exception that I always returned to The Stranger by Albert Camus. In fact, I'm rereading it today. Annotating on top of previous annotations, marking my new words by "MM '23" so that I can distinguish my more —educated— opinions from my (turns nose upwards) lowly high school opinions (pushes imaginary glasses up). However, high school me was not uninspired, thanks to Camus's take on existence. While my classmates condemned Meursault for his detachment and expressed confusion to our teacher for making us read such a "depressing" book, I sat quietly and confused for different reasons. I appreciated Meursault's honesty, matter-of-fact view of the world around him, and ability to assign his own meaning to the things and events around him instead of succumbing to the waves of the world's expectations. Don't get me wrong; I am not some psychologically detached person who doesn't care about what happens in his life or to others (friends, do you agree? 😅). I firmly believe Meursault unnecessarily caused his demise and wasn't a great person overall. Yet, had he set aside his tight grip on rebellion, he wouldn't have been the absurd anti-hero Camus meant for him to be. Meursault lived his life aware of life's meaningless, unafraid of the finite (death) or infinite (nothingness). In revolt against this Absurdity, he chose to appreciate what life offered, focusing only on what was in his control, himself, and not what others might think, finding beauty even in the most minor things right to the very end.
Almost ten years ago, when I first read this book, the idea that I could define my own meaning in life exhilarated me. "Nothing matters unless I grant it meaning: this is incredible. This is freedom!" I remember the look of concern one of my college interviewers gave when I expressed these thoughts after he asked about an impactful book that I had read. That look yielded a fear of expressing my opinion; I didn't want my classmates to do the same.
“Damn,” he said to himself, “if only I enjoyed this process in high school, I probably wouldn’t have abandoned reading and learned so much more in college.” Oh well, he laughs to himself, “that's enough of those thoughts.”
Embracing the -Isms: Absurdism
distinctly not nihilism
I have never spoken directly with my father about his philosophical beliefs - maybe that will change soon. The closest we've come is when he gave me his beaten-up copy of "The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays" by Albert Camus. He noticed me reading "The Stranger" and asked if I liked it, and when I said yes, he said something along the lines of "Here, you might like this as well. I read it when I was around your age."
I was excited, but alas, it was not as straightforward a read as Camus' other works. It was a collection of philosophical essays, after all, filled with flowery language, references to older philosophers I had never heard of, and repeated discussion of the "question of suicide" and the "Absurd." After a few pages, I remember being so confused that I went up to my father in embarrassment, asking, "What the heck, dad, do you think I want to kill myself?" He reassured me that was not why he gave me the book, that I had to keep reading: so I held on to the book…for four more years - pushing it further and further back on my perpetual Kanban board. I didn't read it in its entirety until after college. I felt so relieved when I finally got to "The Myth of Sisyphus." The essay was only a few pages long, probably even shorter than this article. I wish someone had told me to skip to that part sooner (thank you, certain roomie, from senior year). The essays that preluded it were cloudy in my brain but necessary for me to toil with as I pondered with Albert why one might not want to kill themselves. Reading the collection felt like my brain was pushing its own boulder up a mountain. For more context, Sisyphus was the King of Corinth who, after successfully cheating the Greek Gods, was punished by endlessly rolling a giant boulder to the peak of a mountain. Only for the same boulder to fall back down, forcing him to repeat the action until the end of time. Many say that Camus' entire body of work stems from his analysis of Sisyphus' struggle, and so far, I agree.
“I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one’s burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” - Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
Upon reading this, my heart was indeed filled; I imagined myself happy, and I laughed. I wanted to reassure my younger self that he interpreted things as correctly as possible. Although he felt like a stranger, he was not alone. I began to see my father a bit differently, too, as the Absurd Man that Camus describes in his essays. I accepted his flaws as best as I could and tried to mime a similar approach to life. I knew I was in control of my own meaning. That sense of freedom I felt in high school came back, and the cliche about life being a journey, not a destination (🤮 ) took on a whole new meaning. I concluded that the struggles we face, be it training for a new trick, repping weights for a new PR, endlessly failing a video game boss, or studying for an exam even, are almost more memorable than their results. Each goal we strive for is just the same shapeshifting, meaningless boulder to be pushed to the top of our mountains, again and again, ad infinitum. Although I cannot write this without acknowledging the more precise metaphor for Sisyphus's boulder, the mundane daily tasks that we repeat every day of our short lives, these, too, should be appreciated.
But that’s just nihilism! No, “just nihilism”; it is absurdism!
Camus' notion that while the world has no intelligible meaning, we humans cannot shake the strong desire for meaning or purpose set my angsty heart aflutter. He proposed three possible responses to the Absurd, of which my favorite is to revolt. I found freedom in saying "No" to the abyss when it came calling, "Let me enjoy my time here." But feelings of freedom can be so fleeting. It's much easier to read about existence and feel free when you have no obligations other than yourself. The year I started working and the years that followed, I struggled with juggling responsibilities, injuries, processing world events, etc. I grew tired and lost my enjoyment of this freedom. Unlike Sisyphus, I let the task of pushing my boulder get to me and found comfort in my island of escapism.
It's unrealistic to focus on being happy every day; that's not possible. While meditation taught me not to make happiness the goal, to value the present moment, and understand my emotions, I still needed a framework to steel myself and enjoy this fruitless pursuit of meaning. Sure, I can live a life dedicated to inner peace, and I shall continue to do so. Yet this kind of life without something else, whatever that may be, is a stagnant one. Becoming independent was a painful reminder that the freedom to define my own meaning could also be a paralyzing curse in disguise. I wanted so badly to follow Camus' revolt, of being fully conscious of the Absurd, avoiding false solutions, refusing to submit, and carrying on with vitality and intensity. Unfortunately, I found this was all so much easier said than done.
Enter Existentialism
It wasn't until I was in a Barnes & Noble in 2021 that I remembered my ongoing understanding of Absurdism, or Existentialism (I didn't firmly believe there was a difference at the time), was rooted in one author's thoughts. Yes, I had listened to podcasts about several other European "existentialists," but I never took the time to dive deeper. I thus aimed to fill the gap by grabbing "At the Existentialist Cafe" by Sarah Bakewell. I won't go into the details of the biography, but I will say it led me to read Jean-Paul Sartre's "Nausea." It took me a long time, but after diverging to numerous other works and even diving into Stoicism (more on that later), I finally found my way to "Nausea" towards the end of 2022. Here was another take on staring into the abyss of existence and coping with the feeling you get when it stares back. For much of the novel, I felt hopeless for Antoine Roquentin. His bouts of Nausea, what Sartre called the overwhelming feeling of dread and displacement our writer, Roquentin, felt when faced with being fully aware of his existence, were too unbearable. The zooming-out, objective view of the world led to Antoine's struggle to find inspiration for his work and his disillusionment with adventure and people. It felt almost too fitting how each author's writing fit with my life's current events. I worried for Antoine and, thus, myself as he became increasingly pessimistic.
Perhaps Dirk Gently's belief in the interconnectedness of all things is valid3. Just kidding, Camus and Sartre would agree with me in saying this is just my mind's attempt to connect the dots and assign meaning to something meaningless. Or perhaps I don't have any strong beliefs of my own and am easily shaped by whatever I read? I digress. More positively, Antoine's reprieve from this awareness with music was just as relatable as his despair, maybe even more so. This refuge made the difference between Absurdism and Existentialism clear. Camus didn't seek solace whatsoever, while Sartre thought it best for his character to come out of this awareness with an energized pursuit of creativity. Spoilers, but upon hearing his favorite song4, Roquentin declares his freedom and sets out to, can you guess it? Write! But rather than write about someone else's life as he tried to before, he chose to cut his anchor to the past and others and write a new, original novel. I wondered: Did Camus see this creative endeavor as escapism from the realities of the world, distracting one from being absolutely free, or does this fall in line with his idea of rebellion? Alas, I am aware the two went from close friends to bitter rivals as they got older, and their philosophical and, even more so, political views drifted apart. I naively thought I would emerge from reading Nausea with a singular, more refined perspective on existence. Of course, this is not the case, and I continue on my journey, having yet to make much practical progress. Dual-wielding the two swords of Absurdism and Existentialism, with a feeling of adventure on the horizon, and an even grander appreciation for music, I continued.
The true joy of humankind is in doing that which is most proper to our nature; and the first property of people is to be kindly affected towards them that are of one kind with ourselves. - Marcus Aurelius
Leaving with Stoicism
While reading Nausea, I simultaneously picked up Marcus Aurelius's Meditations. I had already been listening to podcasts on Stoicism. Per the recommendation of a senior manager at work, I decided to see what the good ol' philosopher king had to say (to himself). I questioned the purpose of reflecting on existence while reading the emperor's guidance. Where is the virtue in even having an existential crisis? It merely distracts me from following logos and adhering to what nature intends for us, whatever that may be. Marcus's words slapped me in the face and woke me up from a foggy nap that ignored the outside world's alarm clock for too long. But would I have been able to readily accept the stoic teachings without my own meditations? Like the French writers, Marcus was well aware of the inevitability of death and often reminded himself of that fact. He reassured himself that it was a part of nature and, therefore, could not be "bad." Either we cease to exist and can no longer worry, or we continue in some other form - unknowable to us with our current understanding of the world. These were reminders to himself to live in the present, as if each day may be his last. Hmm, is this not just a more pragmatic approach to facing the Absurd? I think Camus would view part of Marcus's approach as a fantastic form of revolt, in keeping the inevitable always at the forefront while not letting it distract you from living your life to the fullest. But the emperor and his ancient stoic teachers also focused on humanity's social nature. They believed in an encompassing logos of the world that we all share and must adhere to for the common good. This was their source of meaning. Aurelius assigned us to serve our community, with each person fulfilling their role as a limb for the greater organism that is society. I, for one, think Camus and Sartre would have refuted this together. Regardless, I did appreciate that rather than examining existence for what it is, Aurelius focused specifically on what to do with your existence. How to find happiness through virtue, live with and understand others, and prioritize your intellect and will over others' opinions were questions he answered. Most of all, he focused on action and what he could control.
Mantism
I'm still trying to figure out my answers or approach, but I have an inkling. If I control my life and life simultaneously has no inherent meaning, then what is the point of doing anything we do? We cannot avoid seeking meaning (nihilists go ahead and disagree), so it is up to us to define our purpose. Whether you find that purpose in creating, some higher power or institution, the amorphous pursuit itself, something entirely different, or some combination of it all, I would love to find out. Nearly endless contemplation like this often leads me to "nowhere" - unless you have a better term than nowhere for these streams of consciousness without a clear destination.
Like Roquentin, nothing pulls me out and springs me to act like a good song. Thanks to the internet, we have immediate, infinite access to music and can live our lives with curated soundtracks at the tap of a button. It is a part of life that we should enjoy to its fullest, as Camus would, and, I'd argue, it's a part of this Nature that Aurelius is so fond of (even though he makes no mention of music in his meditations). Music has been a shared experience since time immemorial and shall continue as we evolve (I hope). But is it a virtue? Music has the power to amplify emotions, good and bad, and can spring us into action or keep us shackled to the couch. With the internet's infinite library, would Sartre still emphasize leading a creative life as a solution to defining meaning? How would he view the saturation of content creators in today's world of TikTok, Instagram, and even, dare I say it, substack (or any other popular writing outlet)? Would he still find "creating" something to be remembered by meaning when it all can be done quickly and just as quickly drowned out by the digital ocean? Or is it not so different than being easily lost to the annals of history in the times before technology as we know it? How would Aurelius tackle operating for the human community with something so interconnected yet so pigeon-holing as the internet? Would he detest these massive corporations that have embedded themselves into our lives or view them as another part of human nature because, after all, corporations are people, too, right?
These questions are endless, and the solution, I believe, is to shrink your scope and focus on what you can do for whichever niche you decide to reside in. Absurdism reminds me that none of this matters in a universe that responds to our pondering with nothing in return and that I should say, "Fuck it, I'll continue anyways." Existentialism shows that I should chart my path to meaning rather than simply revolt. Stoicism teaches me that whatever I choose, I should try to benefit the greater whole, focus on what I can control, not let my emotions get the best of me, and even be social! With "Desires" on repeat, I embark on this road to dawn and choose to share my creative outlets with no greater purpose than the joy of creating and sharing. Maybe you, the reader, have enjoyed this rambling, maybe not! You decide if any of this means something to you. If you choose to read my future thoughts, then welcome to mantism. If not, well, so long, and thanks for all the fish!5
Thank you, I appreciate the time you’ve shared with me. We have so little of it, and you chose to read THIS, of all things. If you have the desire to share your own thoughts, I would love to hear them. If there is something I said that is factually incorrect or an opinion I’ve expressed based on false assumptions, please, oh please, correct me. What good is studying if we are unwilling to adapt and learn from our mistakes? For the even more curious, you can find a list of all the references I’ve made in this journal, a FAQ(TM), and my current “consumption” list. Lastly, in writing this, I realized the schools of existentialism, absurdism, and nihilism could be hard to distinguish. Here is a table that helped me:
References for Your Further Reading, Watching, Playing, etc.:
The Stranger by Albert Camus
Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre
Meditations by Marcus Aurelius
At the Existentialist Café by Sarah Bakewell
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
Bluprint by Brandon Lu
Try, Catch by David Cantù
Pragmatic Engineer by Gergley Orosz
The Observer Effect by Sriram Krishnan
The Generalist by Mario Gabriele
Melatonin by David Huynh
Kingdom Hearts by Tetsuya Nomura
Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency by Douglas Adams
So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish by Douglas Adams
Elden Ring by Hidetaka Miyazaki
Berserk by Kentaro Miura
Vagabond by Takehiko Inoue
Inside Out by Pete Doctor
Can Life Have Meaning? by ScientificPhilosopher.tumblr.com
You’re a Wizard, Harry! by Macca Hemp
Frequently Asked Questions (to myself):
Will all of your posts be this long?
I certainly hope not!
Do you know if the subject of these posts will remain consistent?
I highly doubt it 🙂 Content suggestions are always welcome!
Topics still on my mind that I didn’t get to or didn’t dive into as deeply as I wanted: decay, metamorphosis, courage, escapism, isolation, love
How frequently will you post your writing?
Who knows! Maybe weekly? But if the next one is just as long as this, I will need to slow down. I might not even post writing personally but as part of another entity - Vertigo, UST, etc.
Are you okay?
Yeah, I’m doing pretty well, all things considered; thanks for asking :)
Media Consumption List
I couldn’t think of a better word or phrase encompassing books, audiobooks, video games, manga, etc.
Current:
The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir (reading)
Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace (very. slowly. reading.)
Consider Phlebas by Iain Banks (listening)
God of War: Ragnarok (playing)
Chainsaw Man, One Piece, Berserk, MHA, JJBA (keeping up with)
Recent:
Courage is Calling by Ryan Holiday (01/23) (listened)
The Stranger by Albert Camus (01/23) (read)
Melatonin by David Huynh (01/23) (played)
The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu (12/22) (listened)
Meditations by Marcus Aurelius (12/22) (read and listened)
Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency by Douglas Adams (12/22) (read)
Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre (12/22) (read)
Backlog/Upcoming/Want to Read/Play:
The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams
Returnal by Housemarque
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin
The Wall of Storms by Ken Liu
The author highly encourages the reader to listen to this song on repeat while reading this piece. Or not, it does not matter :)
The author would like to note that his "reading" consists of listening to audiobooks and counting entire manga series as entries, with the exception of Berserk. Those manga volumes were measured as one each bc they're thiccy. If this invalidates the count, then subtract ten from 57.
Dirk Gently is a fictional character from a book and tv series of the same name; Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency
The record that Antoine Roquentin was so fond of was Some of These Days by Sophie Tucker (1926)
“So long and thanks for all the fish” is a reoccurring phrase throughout the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Series. It is also the opening song of the movie:
Happy you enjoyed it, and very interesting take on the problem of meaning! Can't say I've thought about the problem of self, but I'm definitely interested now. I'm looking forward to diving into the idea that we can completely abandon our desire for meaning. I'm curious, though, when you say that this desire ultimately falls away, do you mean that one actively rejects finding meaning while still acknowledging the illusion of that search? Or, more simply, rejecting the concept of "meaning" altogether? I've intended to expand my reading list to encompass works of eastern philosophy, so I'm happy you brought up these examples from Hinduism. I'll definitely check out Jim Newman!