Have you ever been forced to listen or read something with which you hold as little interest as you hope to hold for it? For some, its math, and perhaps in a real world situation, it’s the economy. The news will broadcast a report stating that the Feds have dropped the interest rate a quarter of a percent, and you’re wondering “Who cares?â€?. If forced, your head will spin, trying to free as much attention away from hearing market experts debate on TV, or your teacher lecture, and you can picture yourself in your head, slowly moving your hands around in circles in front of you, motioning “Let‘s go, come on, move along will ya?â€?.

You feel as though you shouldn’t be forced to listen or watch anything that bores you as much as math lectures and market debates do, and that you should be allowed to peruse your own interests, as opposed to something as far-removed and esoteric as being a human being (for you at least) seems to be about? Where’s the sense of fulfillment and personal worth if you’re having to be forced (or peer-pressured) into listening and doing something with which you have no interest in, simply because others with a more educated opinion have told you otherwise?

This is my problem with music, and literature, and art in general.

I’m too existential it seems. I spend too much time away from better understanding the mind, how people feel, act, and respond to others. An artist focused too much on realism as opposed expressionism, representation as opposed to meaning. Not to say that one is better than the other, simply different. I feel that reality is well-defined, and that art is redundant, whereas the most beautiful of things are natural, not simply appear natural, and that its pointless reviewing what’s already been created.

I’m asked at times to read a book, fictional of course, or what my favorite songs are, in hopes that a better understanding of how I feel is given, assuming that whatever else is said can be the simple action of regurgitating whatever rhetorical summarization can be found from the newspapers or science magazines I read, as though personal feelings are as genuine as humans get, and are harder to plagiarize, and lie about.

Meh.

I voted in my state’s primary, and will of course vote in the general elections. A lot of people my age have opinions about the state of the union. Instead I’m one of the few I know who actually registered to vote. For others, its not worth it. They have their own good reasons, but mostly, they have their personal feelings to fall back on. Someone else will hopefully take care of things, or at least, people won’t take things too far to have use worry it seems. Luckily, we’re just in time to watch our favorite TV show. The writer’s strike is over, and while what is was they we’re striking for doesn’t seem to matter, let’s sit down, relax, and absorb other people’s problems. Let’s gossip. Judge and be judged. Discuss how we feel. Happy or sad, mad or apathetic, how we feel matters, and ensuring that those around us feel the same as we do, or at least differently enough so that we can engage in debate is what’s important.

How was your day? Did you see that movie? What radio channel do you want to listen to? Your mindless dithering of statistics and rational thought is too consuming and bores me. Stop wasting your time. Breathe deep, open your eyes, and free your mind. I emote therefore I am.

*sigh*

I’m clearly getting off-topic and turning this into another rant about my cynicism of emotions and subjective observationalism (if such a word exist, which I doubt). It’s late, and I’m too tired at the moment to edit this and get back on topic. I hope I've been intellectually provocative enough without being too arrogant, pompous, skewed and insane, which I'm prone to being. Good night.