It has been quite some time many of the regular readers of this irregular blog have been asking now and then about its well-being. Well, I might say my blog reflects my life, and irregularity is a part of life, and so are randomness, uncertainty and unpredictability. This non-linear phenomenon sounds like discrete entropy, but that is what life resembles, only that you cannot measure it quantitatively. The absence of all this causes anything to get stagnant and drain all thrill out of it, be it a subatomic particle, or a highly complex human machinery, or an ever-fluctuating stock market index. They are of interest as long they are volatile. This applies to life as well.
I tried fathom the reason for this four-post old blog not getting any older, and reflected upon what I have been doing for the past few months, in the process of which I realized I’ve been unknowingly following 17th century philosophizer Baruch de Spinoza’s 67th Proposition in Part IV of his magnum opus, "The Ethics":
Homo liber nulla de re minus quam de morte cogitat; et ejus sapientia non mortis sed vitae meditatio est.
(There is nothing over which a free man ponders less than death; his wisdom is, to meditate not on death but on life.)
Contemplate on life did I, but coming to, or even trying to come to, a conclusion about life in such a short time would be blasphemous. The egocentric part of me was concerned more about my own life, which is as at ease and peaceful as one would want. But, as aforesaid, stagnation makes it dull. Joblessness adds boredom. A lack of ambition and sense of direction makes it dreadful. Random, silly, stupid, insane, horrendous, impossible, weird, long chains of thoughts keep fluttering in from nowhere and everywhere.
So why was I absent from my not-so old blog? Was I able to get to the root cause? What was keeping me busy? Nothing—there was no worthy reason—as I admitted above, the work load was not enough to cramp me up. Actually I was upset, frustrated, brooding, anxious and irritable; I was cribbing, angry with the world, with myself, was picking up quarrels with most of my well-wishers on trivial issues. My sincere apologies to my parents, sisters, and friends.
I am as confused as to why am I writing this as to why am I living life the way I am—stagnant, boring, lone, insecure, restless are a few fitting adjectives. Procrastination has reached its pinnacle. Basic tasks that require immediate attention stay put for weeks. Life is getting lethargic, routine, and I am getting older. Life is moving at a pace I don’t like. I was (I wish to think I still am) the kind of guy who, given a choice between choosing a stable, peaceful path and one involving hurdles and experimentation, would always choose the latter. Of late, however, things have been quite different. There have been times I want to do many things at a time, and end up doing none. Or worse, start something, reach a twentieth or fiftieth or hundredth of it, and then abandon it. There have been times I do not want to do anything at all—not even lie down and think.
There are a hundred things I could do to keep me engaged, you would suggest. I already know hundred and one. I know the problem, and I know the solution; I have been only too foolish/lazy to incorporate it and find something really engrossing.
In the song about discontent with life entitled "Why Georgia", John Mayer muses:
Might be a quarter-life crisis
Or just a stirrin' in my soul
I wonder sometimes
About the outcome
Of a still verdictless life
Am I living it right?
This makes me do a double take on whether I am living it right? Am I suffering from a quarter-life crisis? I wonder if that is it, would I automatically get rid of it once I age to the third from the quarter?