Rational thought lives on a lonely plain.

I am all too wrapped up in theory and philosophy wank at the moment. Not in this very moment, but those preceding it, perhaps. 

Well, certainly. That opening is not meant to be a grumble either, I am reveling in every second of my theoretical wanderings. Returning to university has been an incredibly engaging experience, and I have thrown myself headlong into every page, every class. I try to retain some sort of decorum, but I know for certain that I am that overly opinionated mature age student who loves to hear the sound of her own voice. At least I am self-aware, and thanks to a certain disgruntled wannabe philosopher in the corner, not the most disliked in the room. 

So as I am meant to be writing event briefings, I sit here procrastinating/musing on liberal thought and social contracts. My fingers hesitate to type here though, for I know that once I start, the drivel that erupts will only be of interest to my own mind, and perhaps a drunk reader. Luckily for all concerned, my readership here should be low enough that I do not need to personally atone for my narrow and perhaps boring interests. If you have made it this far, feel free to press the eject button now. Safe landing to you.

Still here? Good bloody luck. 

I wrote last about my enjoyment of the string-like connection of time and its continuous nature. I was stirred by my readings today on the subject of universal history, and rational society as a goal for humankind. Immanual Kant wrote his nine pointed thesis for a universal history in 1784, which logically details an overarching rational idea for our progress as a race. It is not meant to be a blueprint, but almost a comfort for those delving into the question of why. It gives context to our many follies and failures, and the characteristic optimism of the Enlightenment period shines vibrantly. Tomorrow, will be better. 

The idea that got me square between the eyes was the notion that as living entities we strive to follow through with our natural capabilities, but, that the human quality of rationality cannot be completed within one lifetime. It is such that even the most learned, the most enlightened, could not achieve closure on this one. We look for answers. We look for them in relationships, in religion, in knowledge, in money, in alcohol, in drugs. And we all come up short. The pervasive grey seeps in and it feels as if it is all in vain. What the hell do I even know and why should I even bother? My brain yells this often, usually as I am trying to do something constructive.

'This task is therefore hardest of all; indeed, its complete solution is impossible, for from such crooked wood as man is made of, nothing perfectly straight can be built.'

I cannot win. My competitive nature detests this.

Reason, though, is bestowed upon all of us equally. With the added fertiliser of time, perhaps, perhaps this crooked wood can become a forest. It is this continuity that drew me in, that gave me comfort, that made sense to my gray brain. Perhaps I cannot win, but the pursuit of the end will add to the pile, and one day android Rachel will be able to climb to the top.

Here ends another pointless, insomnia -driven word vomit. Do not think that my arrogance is such that I think that I have spoken any new truths here. This was merely an avenue to clear my brain, and write my five hundred words. Goodnight, whoever you are.

It was a fiercely warm Autumn evening, the night that I decided I would not sleep.

An idea caught me the other day. This heat makes it a whole lot easier to slip into delirium, which is a consolation prize of sorts I guess. My headstone will read: 'She died from the heat, but at least she had an idea before she went into the sun'. Or perhaps it would read: 'Look behind you! ACK! HELP!'

Who knows. All we know is that this wouldn't be a written piece by me unless it began with a ramble of sorts.

Right. Back on message.

I like the continuity of time, and the fact that even though we are chemically the same person we began as, that it is more like a string of different people held together by a common thread. I used to write letters to my future self, wondering what we were doing, what life was like, if we still liked Tina Arena. You know, the important things. So I guess I want to write back to her. But involve a few more people this time.

I have met some pretty amazing people on my various travels, adventures and long nights at the bar, and I think the world and your past lives would like to hear from you (and your friends) too. So I ask a simple question:

If you could tell your fifteen year old self one thing, what would it be? 

I will compile your answers and then post them anonymously for the rest of Melbourne and the world to share. I have a romantic vision of guerrilla-esque street posters, so if you have a little time, drawing/design skills and want to help me create, let me know.

My answer I hear you ask? Well, that would be influencing the blinded nature of this social experiment if I told you. Send me yours and when I post them, you can try guess which is mine.


EDIT: First click here https://www.amnestybox.com (anonymous email service)
THEN
Send all correspondence to: ifihadmytimeagain@gmail.com

Thanks in advance comrades. You are making a 25 year old wanderer and a 15 year old nerd punk very happy indeed. Please pass this on to whomever you reckon would like to join in. The bigger, the more voyeristic payoff you get when you try to guess who wrote what. COME ON YOU ALL WANT THAT.